


The Hows Of Us

by stephluvvsyou



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephluvvsyou/pseuds/stephluvvsyou
Summary: During a time where Veronica is losing herself, Jughead's one regret is that he didn't see it coming.





	1. A Loss Of Identity

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, and fair warning, this is my first attempt at a Riverdale fic, annnnd I have to be honest when I say that I didn't truly watch the show, but rather I, er, skimmed through it. Mostly because the writing is just so out there that I couldn't force myself to be entertained, no matter how hard I tried. But, that being said, I still enjoyed aspects of it - mainly some of the characters, and even this ship we all love to call Jeronica, which has so much wasted potential so far, that I want to scream. Loudly.
> 
> I've been scouring over the ship tag here for a couple of days, and so of course that jump started me into pondering some ideas in my own head - though I hardly consider myself anywhere near capable a writer, or the ability to come up with a good plot. Some of the things I've read here are amazing, and I only wanted to try.
> 
> I honestly don't know where this story will go, if it'll become anything, or if this one chapter will be as far as it makes it. I have an idea in my mind and a direction I want to take, but your guess is as good as mine if that actually translates. 
> 
> So all of that being said and out of the way, you'll have to excuse me for any inconsistencies this work of fiction might have to the actual show. I may or may not choose to ignore some of the canon happenings, and sacrifice some of the farther fetched experiences these kids have had. And so, if you do read this, and deem it worthy enough, please leave feedback - because I really don't have anyone in the fandom to talk to - and I'll never know if what I'm writing is a decent attempt, or just plain awful. I would appreciate so much to hear back from some of you, and that feedback will probably decide what comes of all this.

* * *

_Take care of her for me while I’m gone, Jug. You and Betty have one another, but with me gone? She won’t have anyone._

Nonsense. Nonsense and way too dramatic, Jughead had thought. So dramatic it had made the recently eaten fries from Pop’s in his stomach churn and want to come back up.

But maybe he’d had a point, after all.

In some ways, at least.

While Archie confessing to a murder he didn’t commit, but somehow mentally he had convinced himself he had committed, didn’t sit right with any of them, it had hit Veronica a lot harder and in many ways Jughead never would have given her credit for. 

He’d watched her lose her fire, or, rather, her icy cool Ice Queen complexion in the following weeks after her boyfriend had been taken and locked away. Barred from visitors, and really, from Veronica specifically, if her father had anything to do with it. Which he had.

Because Hiram Lodge always had something to do with whatever latest disastrous tornado ripped through the town of Riverdale to make its citizens miserable and depressed. He specialized in sabotaging happiness and contentment, all at the expense so that he could continue living his life of luxury and slowly conquering all that he could get his filthy criminal hands on.

Jughead once believed he’d do anything to keep his daughter happy, too.

But that wasn’t the case anymore.

No, Hiram Lodge was evil incarnate. And if that meant throwing his daughter to the wolves along with everyone else, then that’s what he’d do.

And Jughead really didn’t realize how much he was going to miss the Veronica that always had fire in her eyes.

Hell, he barely considered them friends on some days.

I mean, they were. He knew that they were. A truth that he’d wrestled with probably more than he’d care to admit outright, on certain sleepless nights in his trailer, when the raven haired girl would invade his thoughts for an always random reason.  
In some form, and in whatever sense – they were something. 

But they weren’t besties like her and Betty. And they weren’t smitten like she and Archie. Hell, they didn’t even carry conversations with one another most days. 

But it didn’t matter. 

And he liked to think he was keeping his word to Archie. 

But perhaps his daily visits to Pop’s, and his occasional greetings to her during lunch at school weren’t enough anymore. 

Because these days she was looking closer to a walking corpse than the ‘too-hot-to-handle’, force to be reckoned with, ‘don’t cross me or I’ll drop one of my heels into your ass’, Veronica. Something had changed, something was wrong.

She was oftentimes downcast, soft spoken, dull eyed, and carried herself weakly. There was no real bounce in her step anymore, no real spark in her words. 

Sure, she’d still go back and forth with him a little. She’d smile and nod when Betty would share something exciting with her, and she’d pretend to be happy when Kevin shared with her his latest rendezvous and romp in the woods. 

But it was almost like she was giving up. 

She’d fold after 2 or 3 snarky exchanges with him, she’d turn down invitations to social outings, turn down invites to hang out with Betty, and she’d even blow off cheer practice, allowing Cheryl to have her run of things, and even get away with insulting her when she’d confront her on the fact that she’d skipped yet another important session loaded with school spirit and bitchy personalities.

_Pfft. Veronica? As long as she has daddy’s credit card in her pocket, and the high school football team drooling at her feet, she’ll be fine, Archie._

Jughead hated admitting he was wrong about anything. He had a pretty good handle on his friends, their personalities, and could usually anticipate their bad decisions and reckless moves before they even could.

But man, had he been wrong this time.

And it was on one particular night at Pop’s that he’d really realize that the Veronica Lodge he knew, and that Betty and Archie loved, was starting to slip away. Fade, as if it never existed. 

Because he was watching her. 

Watching her from one of the booths at the back, where he could be alone, but still keep an eye on her – even though she didn’t know he was there for that purpose – as she clicked around in her heels and cleaned up from the dinner shift. 

The diner was empty, quiet. Save for the sounds of the keys on his laptop tapping, and the sounds of cups and plates clashing against each other as she’d dump table after tables worth in the kitchen sinks in the back. 

She’d be closing up soon, having already sent Pop Tate home for the night, and downsizing the menu to coffee, shakes, or donuts only – and that meant she’d be shooing him out as well, ending yet another evening of his observation of abnormal behavior from her. 

But before she could finish bussing the last row of booths opposite to where he was sitting, the jingling of the bell on the diner door grabbed both of their attention, and Jughead found himself narrowing his eyes as 3 burly looking bikers strode in through the door.

He didn’t know them. They weren’t southside, and they didn’t belong to the ghoulies either. At least, if they did, he’d never seen them before – but they weren’t adorning any heavy eyeliner, nor did they look like pale ghostly idiots, so he was inclined to believe in that moment that they were probably just passing through town, or something.

They shuffled into one of the clean booths and Jughead’s eyes shuffled over to Veronica as she tiredly appeared from the kitchen once more and walked over to them. 

He heard her state to them that Pop’s was no longer serving dinner, but that she’d be happy to still get them some coffee or a pastry, and then he tore his gaze off of her and tuned her out, the replying voices of the bikers fading into the background.

He was working on a report due for English, and while he had 2 weeks to get it done, this kind of assignment was his specialty. He actually enjoyed it, and so that also meant he couldn’t find any reason to put it off.

Plus, it was a nice distraction to have, and he didn’t really have anything better to do when he’d just sit here for hours, secretly keeping an eye on the girl Archie had left behind when he’d confessed to murder.

He typed out a nice few sentences to round off the paragraph he’d started earlier, and when he lifted his eyes once more to land them on the reason he’d been hanging around in the first place, he wasn’t so sure he liked what he saw.

One of the men, a smug and older looking one, with a bandana wrapped tightly around his seemingly bald head, and a toothy wide grin was slowly inching his hand around her backside – and Veronica – was just tiredly smiling, exchanging back and forths with the other two, and completely unaware that her ass was about to be sitting in a large, uninvited, old man’s hand.

Jughead slouched down a little more, the screen of his laptop providing ample cover from his observant eyes and expression as he folded his arms over his chest and peeked ever so slightly out from around the edge of it.

This would be interesting to see, he thought.

Veronica knew she was hot shit, but always handled the advances of any male with complete confidence, and had no problems issuing a slap or snide comment towards the ones that ever got too touchy-feely with her. 

It was always entertaining to see her put a man in his place, and Jughead couldn’t help but smirk a little in anticipation, waiting anxiously for the hand to make contact with its target.

Seconds later, and the hand fell flush against her backside, but it wasn’t until it gave her a slight squeeze that she frowned and shifted a more than annoyed gaze towards the man it belonged to, halting all conversation she’d currently been in the middle of with the other two.

Silence fell over the table.

“I’m sorry.” Veronica stated, very tired, and lacking any kind of edge whatsoever, “But I’d appreciate it if you’d not do that.”

Jughead felt himself shifting in the booth uncomfortably. One eyebrow crept a little higher than the other.

What? No slap? No name calling? No snark? What world exactly were they living in? As doomed as Riverdale already was, it might be even more so now.

The man, who’d been stunned only for a second by her words, and maybe more by her frustrated but hardly threatening gaze, began to laugh. And of course, the other two began to laugh with him.

Jughead rolled his eyes. Idiots. He didn’t know where these morons had come from, but in the town of Riverdale, shit like that didn’t fly so easily, least of all by the Serpent Prince.

Veronica simply stood there, still looking very unamused as the biker’s stifled their laughs and another figure joined the conversation. She hadn’t heard him coming, over the howls of the unruly pack of men seated at the table in front of her, but she was surprised, and actually relieved as well, to hear his voice cut through the uncomfortableness of the situation she’d somehow found herself in.

She’d had her ass grabbed before, and rightly so. She had the best one in town, and she couldn’t blame the occasional lonely teenager for not being able to control his urges, but she just didn’t have the energy to do anything about this tonight. Not now. Not when she was so tired.

“Question for you,” Jughead entered, arms folded across his chest and eyes flicking with a seriousness that made the rest of them keep the silence they’d adapted after they’d stopped cackling over the teenage girl one of them had just violated. He glared daggers towards the man in the bandana, and his tone felt forceful and threatening in a way that made Veronica thankful she’d never seen Jughead taking care of any “business” on his side of town. He leaned down ever so slightly, but with enough smug and cockiness that kept him true to his character, “Do you want to remove your hand on your own, or should I break every single bone in it?”

Veronica’s eyes snapped to stare at him, but his remained fixed on the man who still had his hand where it shouldn’t be. One thing Jughead took very seriously, and always would, was his ability to stand up to scum like this. He didn’t care that the man was twice his size, or looked like he could possibly eat him for breakfast. Nor did he care that he was outnumbered 3 to 1, should things get physical. In fact, being outnumbered in a fight was one of his specialties, and everyone in town knew that Jughead could scrap and fight with his eyes closed. He wasn’t afraid to take a punch, nor was he afraid to throw one, no matter the odds or how big the foe. 

“Jug…” Veronica murmured quietly, and her hand lightly lifted to touch his shoulder.

She’d almost touched it, almost rested it there, hoping to dispel her friend from starting something in the middle of the diner that would no doubt keep her there long after closing hour, cleaning up the aftermath and however many broken dishes and smears of blood that included; but she was stopped short, when she felt the invasive hand on her back side, slowly slide away. 

Jughead smirked, his eyes having never left the older man’s, before muttering a simple, “Smart.” In his direction. 

He stood from his slightly hovering angle at which he’d leaned towards the man, and reached out with his hand to take hold of Veronica’s arm, firmly but gently. His eyes stayed locked, however, several lingering and threatening seconds, long after he’d ushered her past him, and he turned on his heel to return to his booth.

He skulked past Veronica, who was safe and secure behind the counter of the diner now, and the three men got up and left a moment after he’d sat back down.

And they spent the rest of the long hour in silence. Until she’d started flicking off the lights and jingling the keys that would inevitably lock the doors of his favorite spot in her pocket. 

Outside, he stood by his bike, already having secured his bag onto it, when she scuffled up to him, her eyes droopy and dark, and her posture that of exhaustion and misery. She sighed heavy, but she lifted her eyes to him. “Goodnight, Jughead.” She stated, and then, in a quieter and almost ashamed tone, “And…thanks.”

But Jughead being Jughead, of course, wasn’t satisfied at all with that.

“Pfft. I don’t want your thanks, Veronica.” He spat, glowering as she uncomfortably averted her eyes from his, and bobbed a couple of times on her heels. 

“Alright then…” she trailed off, leaving her lingering gaze on the ground for a second, before picking them back up with a fake smile, “Noted.” She nodded once. Simply. Shortly.

And then she began to walk away.

For as bewildering as the short and seemingly easy to win exchange had been, Jughead still couldn’t find it in himself to let her just walk away from him like this. So, he scuffed one large stride, because she hadn’t gotten far, and his hand shot out to grab her arm, halting her instantly as with one flick of his wrist, he spun her to face him.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” His tone, his eyes, his body was demanding in nature, as he released her arm and folded his own before rolling his eyes, “Even if ‘bullshit’ is the only word that comes to my mind?”

She blinked up at him, his smoldering dark eyes peering down at her, making her feel as if she were on trial for doing something wrong. She shrugged, “What do you want, Jughead?” she asked tiredly, easily, “Whatever it is you want me to say, just tell me, so that we can both go home satisfied, and pretend that what happened tonight didn’t.”

Jughead’s pissed. A little. The fact that she isn’t budging, and that she’s doing it without being a complete smartass really bothers him. Not only that, but has she really become so comfortable in this solemn skin of hers that she can’t even defend herself from his snark anymore? That maybe she doesn’t want to?

“Why?” he states, more so than asks, with a shrug of complete annoyance as he continues to glower at her, “Why did I even have to get involved?”

“You didn’t.” she answers easily, “So that’s really a question you should probably be asking yourself –“

“Oh, come the fuck on Veronica.” Jughead then snaps, and paces a couple of feet from her. He needs a second to himself. Because if he has to continue staring into her fake fucking eyes, and hit another one of her ever so thick fucking walls, he might just grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she’s unconscious. He turns towards her again, flinging one of his arms in a random direction, “I’ve seen you threaten to have some of the boys at school castrated for so much less than a hand on your ass.”

He steps towards her again, his eyes black like a sharks, despite how blue and contrasting they are when a beam of light bounces off of them, and points towards the empty, vacant, and dark diner, “Yet you’re telling me that you were just going to let what was happening in there slide without so much as even moving away from that old piece of shit?”

Veronica’s eyes are now different. Something in them has broken, and they are now drowning in the realization that there’s no way for her to explain this part of it away. It’s a long few seconds before she speaks again, and when she does, her tone is quiet and shrill, and it really doesn’t sound good on her. “I told him that-“

“You didn’t fucking tell him anything, actually.”

“Okay, listen to me, you complete _ass_.” 

Finally. _Finally_ there’s a little bit of fire there.

But Jughead’s not really sure he considers that a huge victory, especially as she begins listing off all of the good for nothing excuses as to why that man didn’t leave with a stinging, red cheek, or a droopy hanging dick, due to her own accord. “I stood in that diner, _all_ day long in a pair of heels that I don’t even remember the designer of.” She lashes, and her words might be able to sting, but they’re far from venomous. “I am tired, and I am sick to _death_ of this diner, but even more sick to death of the fact that I’d rather spend every moment I’m awake standing inside of it, than at home with my sorry excuse for a father, working on a book report for school that I could care less about, and dodging phone calls from a red headed psychopath that wants to insult and scream at me for missing another practice in addition to threatening to take my position away from me.” She snaps, before taking a step back, away from him, further from him than he’d normally allow anyone he was currently locked in a confrontation with. “So forgive me for forgetting for two seconds to retaliate against some jackoff who wanted to cop a feel, because I’m sorry Jughead.” She continues, her tone still slightly fiery, but her eyes have lost their sharpness, “But I had a lot more on my mind than some sleazy prick’s hand being where it shouldn’t.”

Well then.

I mean, he wasn’t surprised, really. Jughead had heard it all before. Heard her complain and bitch and moan over every reason under the sun as to why she wasn’t happy on a particular day, or why she was furious on a different one. And the spoiled, rich, bratty girl that she was could be very dramatic and convincing when she wanted to be. 

But Jughead wasn’t standing here with the spoiled, rich, bratty girl tonight.

He was standing here with a fake, tired, less than glamorous, and seemingly defeated raven haired princess that seemed to have lost all the will to preserve any part of her personality that she, and so many of the people who surrounded her loved about her. 

The flame that he’d become so comfortable knowing that always burned deep inside of her at her core had seemingly gone out, and he felt like an idiot and partially a failure, for missing the moment that it’d happened.

Because he claimed to know his friends. Have a handle on their inner workings.

And he did.

But maybe not her. Not anymore.

Her impatient sigh shakes him out of his unrealized moment of deep thought, and when he focuses his eyes on her once more, she’s standing there tapping her foot, her arms crossed.

“Are you going to let this go, Jughead?” she ponders of him, her momentarily vulnerable eyes now freshly glazed over with a new smoky wall that she’d managed to pull together and submit under. “Or am I going to have to add you to the list of things I need to avoid?” she then leans in slightly, her eyes narrowing and attempting to sharpen on him, “Is this what you do on the southside to all of your victims? Drill them and break them down and try to intimidate them until they give you the words you want to hear?”

Jughead smirks, and almost laughs outright. She thinks she has the upper hand here, with this sad attempt at taunting him, but she’s far from it. He steps closer to her once more, peering down over her, looking down on her. 

And it’s not blatant, but it’s there. Her small, subtle, and seemingly non-existent shrink away from him. She’s clearly not in the mental nor emotional position to play the game with him tonight, and she’s never been in a physical position to do it.

But her submission causes his smug smirk to remain, “Oh Veronica, you’d know if you were just another “victim”,” he makes air quotes with his fingers around the word, “of mine. I’d have you tied down to the nearest piece of furniture I could find and trace over every unclothed inch of your skin that I could with my weapon of choosing.” He then darkens his tone, honing in on her uncomfortably shifting body and the discomfort in her eyes with his own very serious and very confident ones, “And I’d do whatever I felt I had to do, to make you squirm.”

As dark as his moods could sometimes make him, and as much as he was enjoying having her in this state of complete submission, a new and rare victory, but one he wasn’t sure he’d allow himself to get used to, he knew that explaining what he would do to her if she were a true enemy of the Serpent’s wasn’t going to point this conversation towards any kind of resolution. Least of all a positive one.

So, he straightens his posture, and takes a small step backwards, allowing her the relief that she needs from his pressing stature, and letting the snake slip out of his blood. “I would never do something like that you.” He then tilts his head ever so slightly, before thoughtfully adding, “Probably, anyway.”

The “probably” part was just for his own kicks, but in truth, he really wouldn’t ever so much as lay a harmful finger on her. 

No, as irritated as he’d felt with her at times, and as capable as he was on any given day to go to war with her father, she was not someone he’d ever felt a single violent tendency towards. She wasn’t her dad, and although it may have taken him a little time to get used to keeping them separated, it was simply a truth he’d come to accept.

He lifts his eyes just in time to see her rolling hers at him, “Whatever, Jughead. I don’t care. Can I go now?” Her tone has reverted back to tired impatience, and without another word, Jughead sarcastically waves her off with his hand, indicating that sure, fine, she can go.

And she does. A turn of her heel and she’s on her way, leaving Jughead to watch her stalk away in silence.

It’s only until after she’s barely in his view that he trudges after her, his bag over his shoulder, and his bike remaining left behind in the parking lot of Pop’s. 

Because despite his frustration over their “exchange”, and the less than satisfied feeling that he got from it, he still knows in his heart, that his best friend wouldn’t be happy to know that Veronica had walked home alone at night, and even more so that Jughead would have allowed it to happen. Especially with three old, beefy bikers still riding the streets somewhere in town.

_Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll check in on her from time to time. But she’s not the type of princess that needs saving. You know that, I know that, Riverdale knows that._

How on earth, had he been so wrong?


	2. Wasting Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much to everyone who read the first part - and even bigger thanks to those who gave me a heart or left a comment. It's because of you all that a 2nd chapter has arrived.
> 
> I rewrote this thing 3 different times, each in a different way, and finally settled on the finished product that's here. I actually had a pretty hard time deciding how it would go, because there were several scenarios I wanted to try and make work. Alas, this one felt the most right for the story I'm telling, and I hope that some enjoyment can come out of it, despite the fact I'm writing Veronica in a completely different way than we're all used to.
> 
> Also, if anyone at all reading this would be interested in proofing my chapters from here on out before I publish them, I would be oh so grateful. I'm having a hard time understanding if I'm even doing a good job at all. I just need to know if these scenarios are believable enough for these characters. I did state in the first chapter that I was going to sacrifice some of the canon events of the show, but I still want these characters to have a level of accuracy to them. Their personalities are what we love about them in the first place, and I'd like to keep them on par as much as possible. So please, leave a comment if you're interested, and we can exchange emails. I'd really like the extra opinion before I publish any further chapters.
> 
> Other than that, I do hope you enjoy this, and if you have time to leave feedback, know that it's extremely and greatly appreciated.

* * *

He wasn’t in a good mood.

Which he supposed was fairly normal for him anyway, but today he’d been informed that his activities on the Blue and Gold were being suspended, all because he published an article that former week about student teacher relationships, and the fact that one was happening right under everyone’s noses. 

I mean, a lot of the students and staff alike knew about it anyway, but Jughead had never been shy about calling people out for their bullshit, and I guess the blatant way in which it had been written about didn’t fall pleasingly on Mr. Weatherbee’s eyes.   
He doubted the principal of their supposedly “proud” school would do anything further about it than sternly talking to the involved party anyway. They’d lay low for a couple of weeks, and then their affair would evolve into full blown passion. That’s just how things worked around here.

Whatever.

It was just another thing to piss him off for a while, but he would be damned if it kept him from spending his free periods in the Blue and Gold office. 

But now that he was sitting here, he felt himself growing more and more annoyed by not only the headache that had crept in and started bouncing off his skull like a pinball, but also his girlfriend, who just kept droning on and on and on about their circle of friends’ resident princess, who had lost her identity these past weeks.

As sensitive as he felt sometimes around Betty, and as good as she was at pulling the “nice guy” out of him, today just wasn’t the day.

And honestly? What the fuck did she truly think he could do about the situation in the first place? He’d already attempted to confront Veronica at the diner, though, he supposed he couldn’t really use that as an excuse, seeing as he hadn’t shared that night’s events with Betty. 

And he knew Veronica hadn’t told her about it either.

So he listened. Ever so patiently. Without interruption, and without argument, and it was only until he knew the blonde girl sitting across the table from him was done expressing her concerns, that he finally let out a long sigh, and gazed over at her. 

Leaning up and propping his elbows on the table, he addressed her very straight forwardly, because he knew she expected him to say something, anything at all, to make her feel okay about what was or wasn’t going on with Veronica. “Honestly, Betty?” he began questioningly, his eyes soft but pointed, “I know you’re worried about Veronica and everything, but what the hell do you expect me of all people, to do about it?”

He knows what Betty wants. Because it’s the same thing she always does. 

Anytime there’s any ripple of abnormal activity in their little social circle, she hopes that Jughead can be the one to start the conversation to fix it. She’s too afraid to truly ruffle any feathers. 

And that frustrates him. Because if it were anyone besides Archie, or Veronica, or even himself, she could do it. He can’t help but think about how truly backwards that is. Shouldn’t her closest friends be the ones she can be the most real with?

Some things just didn’t make any sense.

“You could talk to her.”

“You do know that Veronica and I don’t exactly “talk” to one another, Betty. But if you want me to insult, belittle, and argue with her, then that can be arranged.”

“Jug…” She protests, in that sweet little voice that she has, but her voice is also tempered with a ‘please take me seriously’ vibe. “Please. She’s avoiding everyone.”

Jughead rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair now and folded his arms over his chest, shooting his gaze somewhere towards the ceiling where he wouldn’t have to look at the blonde girl’s bright pleading eyes, lest he lose all of his inner strength.

“She won’t return any of my calls or texts.” Betty continued to make her case, and then leaned over the table slightly, lowering her voice as if she were sharing some secret, “Cheryl kicked her off of the Vixens yesterday, too.”

“How horrendous.”

His exaggerated sarcasm causes Betty to go silent and frown, and he lets out a sigh. 

“I’m serious, Jug! This isn’t good.” Betty pressed, finally pulling her boyfriend’s eyes back to her.

And the look in them had changed. From one of worry and concern to now almost genuine fear for her best friend.

“She’s just cutting everyone and everything out of her life for whatever reason, and I can’t even help her because she won’t talk to me.”

Her eyes were glistening now, slightly. And just as much as Betty tears were one of Jughead’s greatest weaknesses, so was letting her just sit there without attempting any kind of comfort he could.

“Alright.” Jughead relents, coming up from his chair and circling around the side of the desk to reach out and take one of her hands in his. Their fingers intertwine and he rubs his thumb in slow comforting circles. “Okay.”

“She shouldn’t be alone right now, Jug. Not after Archie.” Betty moaned miserably, “She shouldn’t have to go through this without us.”

For as much as he didn’t want to do this, and for as shitty as his day had already been, he silently cursed himself for being so quick to relinquish his broodiness over to this female seated in front of him. He loved and cared about her, and he wanted to help. But damned if his weaknesses didn’t challenge him on the worst days possible.

He gives Betty’s hand a comforting squeeze, before releasing it and grabbing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. And the only thing he heard as he left, was Betty’s emotionally recovering voice call out to him, “Be nice!”

* * *

“Ugh, what do you want, hobo?”

“Cheryl. Always a pleasure.”

“State your business, Jughead. I have far more important things to do today than entertain one of your elementary level investigations over who did what under the bleachers at last week’s football game. So if it’s a story you’re looking for, you should start in the boy’s locker room.”

Her words were like fire, and her hair even more so. But Jughead found he was never going to be able to appreciate this venom spitting beauty the same way that he could Veronica. Mostly because Veronica had moments where she seemed to have a heart and soul, while everything Cheryl seemed to do was laced with revenge and spite, and with selfish intentions born from her own twisted and toxic mistreatment. 

While they were both daughters of unfortunate circumstance, and even more unfortunate self-fulfilling parental figures, Veronica was a bar above Cheryl for many different reasons, and in many different ways. 

Jughead rolled his eyes, “The world already knows what jocks do to girls underneath the bleachers, Cheryl.” He stated, adjusting the bag on his back before folding his arms, “I’m more interested in finding out why you have one less Vixen on your squad today.”

She seemed to scoff, although if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have caught it. Jughead, however, was. He watched as her features slowly went from mildly amused to highly annoyed, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, it’s about Veronica, so it kind of is.”

“Since when?”

“Cheryl.”

Their back and forth was short lived, and the red head rolled her eyes, her impatience to end the conversation as quickly as possible winning her over.

“The Vixens have a reputation to uphold.” Cheryl explained haughtily, “We’re expected to maintain an image of pride and glamor. Not that you’d ever understand.” She then pointed a gaze towards him, “Veronica was clearly not interested in that anymore.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow. For as superficial as he knew the Vixens, and Cheryl, and even Veronica to be, it had intrigued him to hear Cheryl say she didn’t think Veronica cared about that anymore, “What do you mean?”

“Over the last 2 weeks, she’s shown up to practice twice, and even when she has, she’s looked like roadkill in the rain.” Cheryl answered bluntly, “Not to mention she barely paid attention to the routines, and she missed a mandatory game last Friday.”

Jughead remained quiet, if only to truly contemplate what he’d just been told. 

“What’s more is she didn’t even seem all that upset when I confronted her about it.” Cheryl then stated in addition, “In fact she almost seemed relieved.”

Missing practices? Skipping games? Avoiding Betty? Avoiding everyone? 

Yeah. That sounded like the alien that had invaded Veronica’s body recently. And he found that he felt just as baffled as anyone probably would over all of this.

In all honesty, he probably wasn’t going to be able to figure anything else out either, unless he was willing to play some real hardball with Veronica. 

Betty’s “be nice” warning, was just going to have to go ignored, for now.

* * *

It actually took him a while to find her. Seeing as she wasn’t in the student lounge, and neither Kevin or Ethel had seen her at all that day, the last place he figured he’d find her was running laps around the school’s track. 

At least it was desolate right now, with the majority of the day’s gym classes already over with and most students at lunch. 

They hadn’t really talked much since the other night at the diner, save for the few exchanged “hey’s” in the hallway, and she’d been surprisingly quiet in the chemistry class that they shared together.

He watched her silently for a minute, her jogging more of a “scuffling” as her eyes remained downcast, and he waited for the moment she’d finally lift them to see him standing there. She’d probably be pissed, or something like it, because she knew all too well that when he showed up to talk to her like this, or privately, they would be locking horns.

Jughead wasn’t sure she would be down for a verbal spar session today, but he was sure going to try and push for one. After all, it’s what he knew best when it came to her.

But as Veronica continued to make her way around the track, her feet dragging more so than she was picking them up, she never bothered looking up. Never noticed that he was standing there, waiting, in the middle of her path.

Instead, she crashed right into him, the force of their body’s colliding sending her backwards onto the dusty ground, while he simply stumbled. In fact, he felt like he’d merely been run into by a small child, let alone a high school sophomore, with the way she’d bounced backwards, like he’d been a wall rather than a person.

“Really, Veronica?” Jughead scoffed, as he watched her blink herself into the realization of what had just happened, before gazing upwards to finally, finally, look at him. 

Her eyes were annoyed and dismissive towards him, and he contemplated whether or not to offer her a hand as she picked herself up and began to dust off her pants. She landed a pointed glare at him, and for a second, Jughead was hopeful that she was going to lay into him somehow. Whether it be for not offering to help her up, or being there in the first place.

But her tired posture stiffened, and readjusted itself, and Jughead found himself almost at disbelief when she simply looked to walk away from him without literally saying a word. 

No “hi, what are you doing here.”  
No “why the hell are you just standing in the track.”  
No “get out of my way.”  
No nothing.

And that’s why when she lightly bumped his shoulder as she attempted passing him by, he felt himself furious towards her in a different way. 

He wasn’t angry. Not truly. 

But damned if he hadn’t already been tested by Betty today. 

Now Veronica was testing him, and the most infuriating part about it was – she hadn’t said a single word to do it.

She brushed past him, but of course, didn’t get far.

His grip on her forearm stopped her instantly, and Jughead felt horrified at how sickly thin it felt in his hand. Not only was Veronica’s personality deteriorating, but so was her physical body. She felt fragile, almost like glass. It was like she was literally just wasting away on every front.

It wasn’t going to stop him from manhandling her, however.

It was just yet another thing to add to the list of ways he had been pissed off so far today. 

“What?!” Veronica snapped at him. Her voice was sharp, but hoarse and tired, and her attempt to twist her arm out of his hand was almost laughable. 

“You think that you can ignore me or blow me off, like you’re doing to everyone else, Veronica?” Jughead snarked in reply, and he mentally had to remind himself not to squeeze her arm out of irritation, lest he leave a bruise.

She frowned towards him, and narrowed her eyes, “What are you talking about?”

“Betty says you’re not returning any of her calls. That you’re avoiding her, and everyone else.” Jughead stated firmly in response, watching her eyes drop slightly, before mustering up a little bit of a spark.

“So what?” she challenged, throwing her hands up slightly, “So I’m not allowed to have any time for myself? I’m not allowed any room to breathe without everyone losing their shit about it?”

“What exactly are you trying to find room to breathe from, Veronica?” 

He watched, patiently. Watched as she attempted several times over to come up with an answer for him. Watched her pace a little, bob on her heels, look more conflicted than she ever has.

Veronica was special.   
For many reasons, and in many different ways.

She was the queen bee. She was strong and formidable. She was resilient and loyal. She was social and outgoing. Sometimes, she could shine like the stars. When the world around her hit her with something, she’d hit back harder.

And sometimes, Jughead felt he thought unfair of her. 

Because beyond that bitchy persona, expensive designer wear, and daddy’s credit card; behind those calm eyes that never shook or quivered, or quaked for anyone or anything; beyond the social status and fiery quirky personality; was still a human. 

A young one.   
One that should be having the best days of her life. 

But instead was standing here in front of him, looking as close to death as she probably ever had, or would.

And for all of the shit that flew in her face on a consistent basis, he’d never once seen the girl cry.

That didn’t mean she never had, or didn’t. For all he knew she may have lied in bed at night and cried, when no one could hear or see her.

But even this thought felt strange for Jughead to entertain. She just didn’t seem like the type.

Also, she still hadn’t answered his question.

“Well?” he prompted from her once more.

He never expected to see her turned into such a speechless mess, either. But yet here they were. He couldn’t tell if she really didn’t know the answer herself, or if she was just trying to come up with anything at all that might make him leave her alone. 

Maybe bits of both. 

Either way, he still had to control his own frustration over the fact that she wasn’t snapping and cursing at him, much like the Veronica he knew, and was used to.

Finally, she took a breath, and pointed her eyes at him, “Just tell Betty I’m fine.”

Jughead wanted to scream. She was so damn stubborn. 

And just as she turned on her heel to leave once more, so did his hand reach out and grab ahold of the back of her shirt, stopping her in place.

Veronica let out a frustrated noise, that held more energy in itself than the entirety of her conversation with him – or lack thereof – had so far. 

She composed herself rather quickly. The exasperated and annoyed noise that had escaped her must have been emergency energy, or something like it. Because when she opened her mouth to reply, her tone was quiet and solemn. She hadn’t bothered turning back around. She didn’t have the energy to look at him, not if he wished to “talk”. 

It must have been a silly sight to see. The two of them, standing in the middle of the track. His hand clenching a fistful of her shirt, while she simply stood there, facing away from him. 

She let out a heavy breath, her eyes blinking as if the sun were shining in them, “I’m tired, Jughead.” Her gaze shifted down to the track beneath her feet. The red, man-made, synthetic fiber that was firm, but slightly squishy. “I never thought I’d feel this way at 16.”

She felt his eyes on her back. Didn’t know if they were sympathetic, or judging, or intolerant. Or maybe he was rolling them.

“It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, Veronica.” He answered calmly, thoughtfully, “Even at 16.”

She wanted to believe that. Wanted to hold onto his words. The only words she’d heard in several weeks that were any kind of comforting towards her peril. But she couldn’t. She didn’t. She shook her head slightly, before turning around.

Jughead released his grip on her shirt as she turned to face him. She looked broken, vulnerable. Tears would have looked beautiful on her right now.

But there were none.  
Only dark circles upon pale, slightly sweaty skin, and a flighty, absent looking gaze.

“It’s not okay for me.” She stated simply, “It never will be.”

“You think you’re that special?”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Then why do you think that you’re somehow an exception to all of the rules that make you a human being?”

“Because that’s what the rest of the world believes.”

Jughead felt slightly impressed at her statement. Not just because of the truth it held, but her awareness of it. So often, he felt she just loved being who she was. Being praised, idolized and looked up to by the school. To be at the top of the social standings. To be gossiped about whether good or bad. To be that fierce, goddess of a person who never flinched for anything.

He always thought she was too blinded by that praise to recognize that it was just the standard to which the world around her held her to. 

But here, now, he was realizing she was very aware of it.

Very aware of the fact that if she let that image of herself slip, the world may forget her, and who she was to it. 

“What about you, Veronica? What do you believe?”

Her eyes were sad, empty, hopeless. She opened her mouth, like she was going to answer, but she never did. Instead, she turned slightly away from him, her eyes narrowing with confusion and complication, and when she tried to take a step, she wobbled backwards slightly.

Concern flickered in Jughead’s eyes, as he took a step forward, and almost as if it were instinct, he placed a gentle but firm hand on her back, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She answered breathlessly. Her arms reached towards the ground beneath her feet, her body quivering slightly, as she aimlessly blinked towards it, “I’m tired.”

It took only a second for her eyes to roll up into the back of her head, and her body to go limp. She fell sloppily into his arms, and despite his confusion over what had just happened, he let her slump gently onto the track.

“Veronica??” he questioned, leaning down over her, peering, as he took her face in his hands and wavered it from one side to the other, looking for any signs of response. He then took her by the shoulders and shook her gently, “Veronica!”

He cursed to himself, thinking that if this day could get any worse, he might just use one of his fellow serpents as a punching bag later.

* * *

“Oh, you’re awake Miss Lodge! How are you feeling?”

Veronica wasn’t sure how to feel. Her heavy tired eyes had heaved themselves open, but were having a hard time adjusting to her surroundings. “Where exactly am I?”

“The nurse’s office.” Replied the female voice, and Veronica could finally make out the outline of the blob sitting just a foot away from the cot she had been asleep on. “Your…boyfriend? Friend?”

“Oh…” Veronica started quietly. That’s right. She had been talking to Jughead, but she didn’t really remember why. She pushed herself up slightly on the cot, and immediately held a hand to her forehead. The headache that had began pounding on the insides of her brain had her immediately regretting even waking up at all. 

What exactly was Jughead to her, really?  
Not much.

“He’s not really either of those things…” she finally finished, settling on the truth as she knew it. “We just know each other by association.”

“Well, whatever he is to you - he carried you here from the track field.” The nurse continued, now watching her with some slight concern, “Said you guys were talking and that you just passed out suddenly.”

“Wait. He _carried_ me here?” 

“All the way.”

Veronica let out a slightly bashful, but miserable sounding noise as she flopped back down on the cot. How embarrassing. 

“He seemed pretty concerned. Kept asking me questions.” The nurse once again resumed, as she scooted her chair a little closer to the cot, as if she were about to share a secret only meant between the two of them, “And Miss Lodge if I’m being truthful here…you should be thankful he was there at all. I can’t give you a full physical diagnosis, as this is simply a school office, but if he hadn’t brought you inside, you’d probably be severely dehydrated on top of the mild anemia.”

Veronica blinked her eyes towards the nurse, as if this news was the most surprising thing she’d heard in a while, “Wait…anemia?”

“There’s no reason to panic. The word sounds scary, but it really doesn’t have to be serious.” The nurse replied, doing her best to sound reassuring in every way possible, “It can be though, if you don’t get some actual rest and start eating properly.”

Veronica rolled her eyes slightly. Of course this would happen. 

All she wanted to do was move on from this life. Forget everything. Archie, the Vixens, Riverdale. Was the world so cruel that it wasn’t even going to let her do that much?

Well whatever.

She knew how to deal with this. 

The same way she knew to deal with everything else. Smile. Tell the person what they wanted to hear. Play along. 

And that would be that.

“I understand.” Veronica answered with a smile and a nod. “I’ll do that. Thank you for your help today.”

The nurse seemed to be caught off guard by her sudden understanding and cooperation, and so as Veronica started to stand up from the cot, the nurse stood from her chair. “I would recommend that you go straight home and continue resting, Miss Lodge. Like I said, anemia doesn’t have to be serious, but it can be.“ the nurse than instantly turned to her desk and began flipping through a roll-a-dex. “I can call your mother to come pick you up so that – “

“Listen lady…” Veronica interrupted harshly, but instantly felt she was overstepping, considering this woman was just trying to be nice. But she was just so tired of hearing about all of the things she should do. She wanted to make decisions for herself. Her expression softened, however. She just needed to make this nurse feel reassured. “I appreciate your concern, but, I’ll be fine. No need to call anyone. I know my own way home.”

Veronica turned and walked away, making sure the nurse didn’t have a chance to see the annoyed frown that washed over her face once she reached the doorway.

She walked out into the hall and pulled out her cell. It was 1:28pm. She supposed Pop Tate could always use the help when she showed up early to work. As she made her way to her locker, she contemplated something in her head. 

While the fact that Jughead had shown up to bother her on the track field was frustrating, she still felt compelled to thank him for his act of humility. After all, it surprised her he’d even do it in the first place. 

She knew he wasn’t heartless or anything, but their “relationship” was not one built on kindness, per se. 

Betty is the one he would carry to the nurse’s office, not her. In fact, leaving her passed out on the track would have absolutely been more believable, at least in her eyes.

Nevertheless, she leaned against her locker, and let out a sigh, before punching in a text on her phone, and sending it away to the moody, brooding boy who’d been ever so slightly chivalrous towards her.

_Sorry about today. But thanks._

She turned to open up her locker, fully intending on grabbing her things and leaving school for the day. She didn’t feel like showing up to her last couple of classes and she could use the extra money from Pop’s. 

“Veronica Lodge to the principal’s office please.” Came Mr. Weatherbee’s voice over the school speakers. “Veronica Lodge to the principal’s office please.”

Great.  
Just great.

The Veronica from last year would have cared.  
Would have been concerned.  
Would have immediately dropped what she was doing to go and find out what it could possibly be that was causing her to get called into the office.

But the Veronica today could care less.

So she finished grabbing her things, and went the opposite way of the office. Down the hall, to the right, and out the front doors of the school, only stopping to check her phone when it alerted her that she had a new text.

_ **You can make it up to me by calling Betty back. Stop ignoring her, Veronica. She cares about you.** _

Veronica furrowed her brows, and punched in a response.

_If I do, will you leave me alone?_

_ **Probably not.** _

_Guess you are going on the list of things I need to avoid._

She scoffed, irritated. Why? Why was he doing this? Why did he have to be this annoying and stubborn? Why all of a sudden did he seem to care about how she felt or what was going on in her life?

For all she knew he didn’t. He was just getting some kind of stupid amusement out of all of this.

Her phone dinged one last time.

_ **Yeah. Good luck with that, princess.** _


	3. The Inevitable Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter, and what it contains, was something that I've had in my head since the beginnings of my thoughts for this story started coming to be. I knew I couldn't just start the story like this, but I think placing it here will give me a lot to work with in the future of where this goes. And the timing feels right.
> 
> That being said, the love that I've received over this piece of fiction, is what's keeping it alive. And from the very depths of my heart and all that it contains, I thank you all so very much for each and every word you've left behind so far. 
> 
> Also, still kind of hoping someone out there might be willing to reach out and proof read for me from here on out. If it never happens, it's alright I guess. But it would still make me feel loads better. I don't really need a grammar or punctuation editor per se - just really rather someone who can give me a second opinion on whether or not I'm continuing to keep these characters in some form of canonicity. 
> 
> That being said, I'll leave you to this piece of chemically charged fluff and fury.

* * *

He wanted to play hard ball?

She could do that.

Just who in the hell did Jughead Jones think that he was in the first place? A friend by association was something she was willing to accept. Someone who thought he could make decisions for her, or change the way she was trying to live her life? He had another thing coming.

For someone who only an hour and a half ago had fainted – into his arms apparently – and woke up on a cot in the nurse’s office at school due to exaughstion, she had some major flair in her step right now. 

It was like a fire had been reignited, deep within her somewhere, somehow.  
Well. Maybe not somehow.

She knew exactly who was responsible for it, and he was probably sitting smugly in a classroom right now just imagining the look on her face, and getting a rise out of it. The bastard.

She stormed down the side of the road, entering into the private section of Riverdale, where all the best and most expensive real estate was. Headed for the Pembrooke, her mind was still reeling from the encounter with Pop Tate she’d had after leaving school.

_“Sorry Veronica. But I’ve made up my mind in giving you the day off. I heard what happened to you today at school. I’m not going to let you work all day in this diner, not in your condition.”_

_“What? But I’m fine, really! I need the money…”_

_“No amount of money is worth the physical health of someone as young as you are. Go home.”_

It had to have been him. 

There was literally no one else it could have been. It had taken all of her will power not to call him and rip him to shreds verbally on her way home. 

No. She still felt too tired to back and forth with him. 

He was the one person who’d never relent to her. And she didn’t have the energy for an exchange that tiring.

But she knew she could upset him in different ways. Ones that would catch him off guard and upset him beyond what words could ever say. And she didn’t know how long she was going to be able to ride this adrenaline, before her energy faded away again. Before she felt like giving up, and giving in.

So she had to act quickly.

She needed to hit him harder than engaging in a verbal exchange with him. She needed him to take her seriously this time. To understand that she wasn’t playing games anymore. Not with him, and certainly not with this town. 

She was done. 

If she wasn’t going to be able to just make him leave her alone or go away, then she would have to up her game. Drive him away. Piss him off to the point where he didn’t even want to see her anymore. Make him an actual enemy. 

And the thought of that bothered her, a little. But it wouldn’t kill her.

At least not any more than shutting off her other friends had so far.

And she’d already made up her mind, anyway.

So she had to try.

* * *

Jughead was slightly surprised when he walked into the Whyte Wyrm that evening. It was a little after 6, but the place was packed for whatever particular reason. Adults and youth serpents alike were joined together, clinking together their mugs of beer and feasting on what looked to be plates full of Italian cuisine. Something was definitely off about all of this.

He shook his head slightly, as one drunken greaseball fell backwards out of his chair and fell to the ground with a crash. But the man simply laid there cackling to himself, and rest of the people who’d been sitting at the table with him erupted into a howl of drunken drawls as follow up.

He pushed himself around a couple of the tables, his gaze landing upon the filled tables full of loud and chuckling serpents. He was halfway to believing everyone had possibly gotten ahold of some jingle-jangle, when Fangs slung a rough arm around his shoulders.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming by tonight!”

Jughead glared to his right, where Fangs had assaulted his ear with drunken shouts, all in an attempt to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “First of all, what did I say about you putting your arm around me?”

Fangs looked sheepish for a second, the realization coming over him in the reminder that Jughead had in fact, expressed his disinterest in that kind of gesture before, whether all in good taste, friendly, or not.

“Right.” Fangs answered simply, frowning as he removed his arm.

“So what the hell is going on exactly?” Jughead then inquired, his eyes still gazing about the packed bar room, only stopping for a second on a group centered around one of the pool tables. It seemed as if someone had just spilled beer all over it.

“Don’t know to be honest. Came in about 4:30. Some hot girl with a killer ass was behind the bar handing out beers, and told us to gather as many of us as there was around, because food was being delivered.” Fangs explained, and Jughead had raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, “Didn’t believe her at first, but sure enough, half hour later and this van rolls up with these huge metal containers of food from Bambino’s. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since we’ve ate so good?”

“Yeah okay.” Jughead responded dismissively, before giving his arm a pat as his eyes scanned the crowd once more. Some girl? Catered food? Serving beers? As if he knew something wasn’t right before, now he was definitely feeling alerted. Not only at the fact that the serpents had so willingly accepted food and drink from a total stranger, but also the fact that there was an unknown person in their territory. And who knew why? 

Honestly, the last thing he needed today, was something like this.

“My dad around?”

“Yeah, he’s still over at the bar. At least I’m pretty sure.”

“Right. Later.”

Jughead forced his way through the hustle and bustle of the crowd once more, waving away random clouds of cigarette smoke in the process, and finally making his way over to the bar, where he found his dad, 3 sheets to the wind and laughing his ass off with a beer in hand right smack in the middle of it.

“Dad?”

“Jug! My boy!” F.P. exclaimed, throwing an arm around his son’s shoulder, much to his dismay, “Look at this place! Have you ever seen it so alive?”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Well how could it be bad? Free food, free beer, and the best part is – no ghoulies have shown up to piss on our parade.” FP almost laughed as he finished his sentence, his drunken form slumping slightly against his displeased son, who regarded him with an eye roll.

“How can you be so casual about this? Fangs said it was some girl who brought all this food here. Who is she? How do we know there wasn’t something in it? What if this is an inside job from somewhere? And have you eaten it too? How could you not think this through?!”

F.P. blinked at his venting son, clearly too drunk to take him seriously, but even if he could, he knew for a fact he was over thinking this. He burst out laughing, which only served to upset Jughead more, and the younger serpent simply glared daggers towards the man.

F.P. noted the look on his son’s face, and stifled his laughing as quickly as he could. His son was serious right now, and so that meant, he’d at least try to ease his mind. “Son, listen. The serpents have a lot of enemies,” he explained, before leaning in slightly, “But Hermione Lodge’s daughter ain’t one of them.”

Jughead felt his eyes pop wide, and it almost took everything in his power not to let his jaw drop too. He shook his head slightly, “What did you just say?”

“Hell, I don’t know her name. But I know she’s Hermione’s girl.” He then leaned in once again, “Got a nice ass too, just like her momma.”

Jughead couldn’t respond this time. Couldn’t speak. If he could make sense of anything, lord knows he would. But he couldn’t.

“She’s bound to be around here somewhere.” FP informed, turning his head to scan over the crowd half-assedly, before resting his gaze on his seemingly confused son once more, “Listen, kid, not everything is a conspiracy. You have to learn to take kindness when it’s given.” He stated, as if imparting some words of great wisdom, before slapping Jughead on the shoulder firmly, “I don’t know what brought this on, but you should find her and thank her, cause these kinds of things don’t just happen.”

Jughead blinked a couple of times, but he could no longer hide the scowl that had crept onto his face, nor the look of pure and utter irritation in his eyes.

Yeah. He’d find her alright. The outlook wasn’t looking so good on the “thank you”, though.

He was beyond irritated when he finally did catch sight of her. After all, it’d taken him another 10 minutes of shuffling through a crowd of obnoxiously drunk men, yelling and carrying on, stumbling and breaking this or that.

She was dressed in some sort of leather, very form fitting contraption that had probably made half the bar drool on several occasions throughout the time she’d been there, despite the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness that had settled into her skin.

She had her arm thrown around one of the bigger, burly men standing near the pool table, and she seemed to be flirting. At least, it appeared she was. She reached up and lightly touched his face, before leaning over to whisper something in his ear.

The man was behaving like a kid on Christmas, as shortly after Veronica pulled her face away, he slipped off his Serpents jacket and extended it towards her.

She took it with a sweet, seductive smile, before sliding it on over her shoulders. 

Veronica Lodge.

She was the single most stubborn, most infuriating, most annoying female on the planet.

And Jughead had seen enough.

He closed the rest of the distance between himself and the pool table, glaring across the top of the green matted surface towards her. A couple of the other serpents surrounding the table greeted him, but he paid them no mind as he waited for the raven-haired girl to take notice of him.

Arms folded across his chest, he waited, watching, as Veronica giggled towards the larger serpent, who at this point had turned into a complete, bumbling, fucking moron, at the sight of her in his prized jacket.

“It’s a little big, but, I still look good in it, don’t I?” Veronica remarked confidently, as the man nodded along, still adorning that large goofy grin that made him look like a jackass. She did a twirl in it, and that’s when she noticed him standing across the table. 

She almost shrieked, as if the sight of him standing there had startled her, or caught her off guard – her reaction very much giving off the indication that she was like a child who’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. But she recovered quickly, because no glare from him, or the fact that he’d finally shown up was going to detour her from the real reason she’d come here to begin with. She’d planned for this. She shot an artificial smile in his direction. “Good evening, Jughead!” she called over to him, before motioning towards herself and twirling once more, “What do you think?”

“I think that you’re an idiot, Veronica.” Jughead replied sternly.

She frowned, and their eyes connected. 

It only took that fraction of a second, just a single moment for the crowded bar around them to fall to complete silence. Not a single soul, drunk or not, hadn’t caught on to what was seemingly starting around the pool table. It had happened like a ripple effect, and for as glaringly uncomfortable and awkward as any normal person would have found it, the serpent prince, and the petite female standing across from him, separated only by a simple piece of furniture, hadn’t seemed to notice it happen at all.

“Someone’s cranky.” Veronica scoffed towards him, slowly allowing the jacket to slide off of her bare shoulders once more. 

Jughead rolled his eyes, however, ignoring the statement she had made and leaning over the pool table, the tip of his finger pressed into it, “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

He noted that the look in her eyes had changed as she passed the larger Serpent’s jacket back to him, before returning her gaze towards his general direction. They seemed uncertain, slightly nervous, and he felt she was probably just uncomfortable because she really hadn’t thought this through to its entirety.

Whatever “this” was in the first place. 

And he knew she’d done it on purpose. 

He’d been so very adamant in the past about her and Betty never showing their faces on this side of town, let alone this bar specifically, because not only was it the center of business for a semi-violent gang, but it was also full of armed men – some that wouldn’t hesitate to shoot either of them on site, and others that were just sexually thirsty enough to commit offenses against them without caring.

While he knew Veronica to always be someone that challenged him in every way she possibly could – coming into this bar, especially without him or some kind of safety, was something he never joked or played about.

And she should know better.

No matter what stupid thoughts had led her into concocting this ignorant idea.

Her artificial smile had returned as she held out her arms as if she were shrugging, “I suddenly had some free time this evening.” She then narrowed her eyes towards him, and for the first time since his eyes had found her, he averted them subtly. “I wanted to come here and thank you personally for that, since, you know,” she paused one more time as his eyes shifted back, but Jughead had noted the difference in her tone of voice, and her energy level. “You’re _such_ a good “friend” and all.” 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Jughead snarked in reply, furrowing his brows as his eyes sharpened on her again, “I pissed you off, so you think it’s okay to do something as reckless as this?”

She slammed her tiny hands on the top of the pool table, peering over at him, “Yes Jughead, I’m pissed off, but not just about today.” She seethed, and several of the surrounding serpents had taken a couple steps back from the table. 

They didn’t want to get in the middle of this, and they especially didn’t want to do anything to upset Jughead more than he already was. Jughead and this mysterious girl who’d waltzed in and seemingly instantaneously set their leader on edge by merely existing.

“Did you really think that you could be so invasive in my life and not suffer any kind of retaliation for it?” Veronica snapped, her eyes narrowing on him but her tone lowered a bit, “Do you even know me at all?”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ who you are, princess.” Jughead huffed in reply, before raising an eyebrow toward her, “Which is what upsets you the most, right?”

Veronica felt her stomach seize with some sort of nervous energy, though she didn’t know why.

“You want everyone and everything to just go away and disappear, because life has gotten too hard, and God forbid you have to suffer like someone “normal”, right? Because dear, sweet, precious Veronica has a reputation, and all the people you’ve had brainwashed for so long that you’re some kind of untouchable, too-hot-and-too-tough-to-handle force to be reckoned with, is starting to slip away from you.” he taunted, but his eyes remained aggressive, and his tone firm as he continued to grill her in front of the entirety of the bar, “And so you don’t care who you hurt or who you bring down with you in the process of your own self destruction because all you care about is what it would make you look like to your brainless following of morons.”

“That’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“You have no idea what – “

“Let me ask you something, Veronica. Do you even know how to cry anymore?”

She was at a loss for words, which was exactly the reaction Jughead had wanted from her. She pointed her gaze towards the ground, as if to feel ashamed or nervous, and he wondered in that moment what she was thinking about.

F.P. meanwhile, blinked his eyes from his position seated at the bar. He didn’t want to order another beer yet, because the room was so silent, he thought it might be somehow rude or invasive to the conversation currently taking place between his son and the girl who’d squared off with him at the pool table. He felt a little awkward, that maybe his son was being too hard on the female standing across from him. But it seemed the situation was too complicated for him to comprehend now, in his slightly drunken state, and it was especially too complicated for any of the rest of the serpents packed into the bar to understand. So he patiently let out a heavy exhale, as silently as possible, and rubbed his palms on his jeans. 

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Jughead finally resumed, his glare relenting ever so subtly, as he mentally decided he’d probably broken her down enough at least to get her the hell out of his bar now. 

The crowded bar continued to remain quiet as could be, every other individual seemingly holding their breath for what felt like an eternity as they awaited the tension filled atmosphere to break by any means necessary.

But the show wasn’t over, as they’d soon find out. At least, however, it was about to get a little – no – a _lot_ more entertaining, and not feel like such an emotional, awkward damper on the mood.

“Go home, Veronica.” Jughead stated towards her.

But Veronica had been subtly reeling in her head. The boy standing across the table from her was a pompous ass in every embodiment of the phrase, and as tired as she was of arguing with him over everything under the sun, she refused to let him make her out to be an embarrassment in front of a bar full of men. So, she picked her eyes up, flashing him a look of pure defiance and refusal, and spat with all the venom she could muster, “_Fuck you_.”

Several gasps echoed out through the bar.

Jughead shot a hard stare in her direction. It really did amaze him just how far she could push herself sometimes. And just as she had refused to let him make her an embarrassment, so did he refuse to let her belittle him in front of his gang. He rubbed his eyes stressfully, taking in a deep breath, and willing himself not to burst into a fit of rage towards the most infuriating girl he’d ever known in his life. He knew that Veronica would stand there and go all night with him if he let her. 

And the time for that had passed.

His migraine was quickly coming back, and he wanted her out, _now_. 

He landed his eyes on her again. “I’m giving you to the count of three.”

Veronica blinked towards him, “Excuse me?”

“One.” Jughead began to count, pressing his fingertip onto the surface of the pool table again.

She folded her arms across her chest, daring him to continue as she stood her ground. She averted her eyes away from him slightly, and her gaze landed between two serpents who looked utterly terrified for her.

“Two.” Jughead stated sternly, his focus on her sharpening. 

She was going to turn this into a scene. Because of _course_ she was.

Several of the serpents had held their breath once more. Not on any given day would they ever challenge Jughead the way this girl was, and to them it seemed she truly didn’t care that he was threatening her, or what he was capable of.

Just what _was_ going to happen when he got to three?

F.P. smirked with amusement from his seat at the bar. The fiery spirit of the Lodge women. It was partly infuriating, and partly hard as fuck to resist. It seemed even his own son, stubborn as he was, wasn’t fully immune to the annoying charm they had. He ordered another beer now, quietly, as he waited for the inevitable fireworks that were at this point destined to explode.

“What are you going to do, Jughead?” Veronica scoffed, but Jughead could sense the intimidation in her voice. She was attempting to take one last go at him. “Have me “thrown out” by one of your slathering thugs?” she then leaned onto the pool table, her eyes glowering over at him, “You think I’m scared of you?”

Jughead wasn’t going to be baited easily, however. He may have normally enjoyed exchanging verbal blows with the raven haired girl, but his patience had run out, and he wanted her gone.

She shrieked as he came up over the pool table at her, not bothering to finish off his count of three – though she’d run out of time many seconds ago. She had stumbled, but several serpents had backed out of the way. While they were quite appreciative of the eye candy that’d graced their presence this evening, and the showering of food and beer, they didn’t dare stand in Jughead’s way.

Veronica looked for anything she could, to grab, to somehow protect her from the furious serpent prince, but seeing as none of his lackeys had the guts to stand between them, she resorted to the closest thing she could get her hands on.

She snatched up a lone barstool and immediately used it as a tool to keep him separated from getting his hands on her. She didn’t know why she was so afraid. It’s not like he was going to really hurt her. That much she knew to be true.

But she felt of all the times she’d pushed Jughead’s buttons, perhaps tonight, now, she had managed to press the big red one. The one that always led to disaster. The one that was never really meant to be pressed.

The legs of the stool faced towards him, and he rolled his eyes. “What are you? Twelve?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Veronica spat back, and as he took a step to the left, as a means of perhaps going around the legs of the stool, she too, took a step, keeping their positions locked. “Counting to three? Really?” she scoffed sarcastically.

Despite her bluffing, Jughead knew he still had the upper hand here. Her behavior was annoying and amusing all at once, and he reckoned that pretty much embodied how he felt about her altogether, as well. The stool positioned between them wobbled ever so subtly, and he smirked, realizing that she was very much trembling, “Thought you weren’t scared of me, Veronica.”

She cleared her throat, “I’m not, you _ass hat_.”

His hand shot outward and gripped one of the legs of the stool, startling her so much that she let out a squeal.

“Yeah, okay.” Jughead taunted, tilting his head towards her, “We’ll pretend that that’s true for your sake.”

He could see it in her eyes, the flash of anger and fire boiling upwards once more. But he was done playing her game. He was done standing in the middle of the bar, crowded in by his men who at this point, probably found them to be no less than a circus act for their entertainment.

He wasn’t going to give her a chance to continue this any longer. Not here.

With one strong pull he yanked the stool out of her grip completely and tossed it to the side, several men moving out of the way of it, lest they go home injured. 

And she didn’t have a chance to really react to that. At least, not a fair one. She’d stumbled forward when he ripped it away from her, and he’d seized her wrist almost as quickly as he’d thrown the offensive wooden seat to the side. There were a few gasps as he began dragging her out of the bar, but Jughead had pushed halfway through the crowd before it started really reacting. 

The results were mixed. It seemed some people were genuinely scared for the girl, while others seen it as entertainment they’d waited for their entire lives.

F.P. simply chuckled as he watched his son pull the protesting Lodge girl out the doors of the bar, before clinking his mug against another fellow serpent’s. 

Noise and chatter slowly began to flow back into the bar once their leader had stormed out the door, and the good times resumed. Though much to Jughead’s dismay, they’d all be talking about this eventful display for weeks to come.

Veronica tried everything as he pulled her out the door. She was calling him names, putting all of her weight down. She’d even attempted to cling to someone’s bike as he continued to drag her around the side of the building; but all of her efforts had failed miserably, the fierceness of his pull on her wrist proving to be no match for her panicked endeavor to not have to face the wrath she’d brought upon herself.

He tossed her against the outer wall. Gently enough, he’d thought. But it had still slightly winded her.

Her eyes flared angrily, as she took a challenging step towards him, “What the hell is _wrong_ with you, Jughead?!” she snapped, holding a hand over her stomach as though she were still recovering her breath, “You have _no_ right!”

Jughead didn’t know if he was in some state of slap-happiness at this point, or if he were just truly this fed up. His hands rested on his sides, and he entered a very short lived round of pacing. When his eyes finally gazed over at her, all he could do was tilt his head towards the sky and let out some sardonic huffs of laughter.

No, he didn’t find this funny.

But at this point, what the hell was he going to do?

It wasn’t going to do him any good to grill and berate her over just how truly stupid she had been this evening. That coming into the White Wyrm uninvited could have ended in a night of horrors for her. Despite how grateful his men did actually seem to be, they were nothing less than their titles. And a den full of snakes could get up to all kinds of things with a woman that Jughead probably would have been forced to exile them over; or even kill them for, seeing as that woman was Veronica.

When she had an agenda, she couldn’t be reasoned with, not really. All manners of which things made sense would escape her, and she’d shoot down any kind of actual logic.

While Jughead found the adrenaline and fire she’d confronted him with by pulling this entire stunt was refreshing; her choice of location still wasn’t worth it. And it infuriated him that he wouldn’t be able to get that through her head; at least not right now.  
It also briefly terrified him, because it had been a severely short few seconds that had convinced him to turn towards the bar tonight, instead of his trailer.

But that part wasn’t relevant any longer, and he pushed the fearful thoughts of what could have become of her out of his head, before turning to her once more. 

She was chaos.

Pure and utter chaos of both the disastrous and absolutely fascinating kind. 

But Jughead could not risk another night like this again. “Don’t come back here again, Veronica. Not ever.” He felt a twinge of anger course through him when she displayed a subtle eye roll towards him, as if she couldn’t be bothered to listen right now. He folded his arms. “I’m serious.”

“Then stay out of my damned life, Jughead.” She argued, her tone less venomous than it had been previously, but still attempting to reserve some firmness to it. She shrugged, as if to make a point, “This wouldn’t have even happened if you’d have just done that in the first place.”

He was annoyed, still. In fact, he didn’t know how long it would take for him to truly get beyond what she’d done tonight. He was quite sure even sitting down with a therapist wouldn’t relieve him of the anger she’d managed to cause within him.

Still, this was the most calm either of them had been all evening, and he wanted to test if he could take advantage of that. “Why are you so hellbent on pushing everyone out of your life, Veronica? Huh??” he questioned, before immediately adding, “I mean, what is it, really? Archie goes away, and that’s just it? The world explodes?”

She had been about to fire something back at him, but when she opened her mouth, nothing had come out. Her eyes looked tormented and sad, her body language seemed conflicted. She averted her gaze to the ground, and that’s when Jughead knew he’d finally managed to find something to work with. A crack in her armor, that would maybe open up more if he kept striking at it. 

Tears would have looked absolutely stunning on her right now.  
But there were none.

“This has nothing to do with him.” She spat, her poison returning to her voice, “And I don’t owe you an explanation for _anything_.” 

And it was time for her to attempt her retreat, a signature move of hers that he knew too predictably well.  
But, just as so, his halting grip on her arm was like clockwork. A tale as old as time.

“What would he say if he saw you like this, do you think?” he questioned her firmly, preparing for another full on verbal battle as he played at her vulnerability. At any moment she would snap again. It was just inevitable. Especially with him pressing her like this. 

But even if – or, rather - _when_ it did, he could work around it. He was used to it, after all. 

He wondered for a fleeting second if there were an alternate universe out there. One in which he and Veronica were capable of carrying on normal conversation. One in which she knew how to cry, and he wasn’t always so annoyed with her that he might offer her real, sound advice on how to make it through her hard time.

Wouldn’t that be something.

“_Let go_.” 

“Do you even really care anymore? Or is he also on your list of “things to avoid”, as you like to call it?” Jughead retorted, his tone less than amused, and on focus as if he hadn’t missed a beat in the conversation at all.

Yeah, it didn’t take long. Her head snapped in his direction, her eyes glistened and flared with annoyance. 

“You’re _such_ an asshole!” she spat, her tone a wide range of emotional as she used her free arm to press against him, trying to force him to relinquish his hold on her arm.

“So you’ve said.” He retorted, rolling his eyes subtly as he quickly grew tired of her pressing resistance against his chest. He reached out to claim her free hand in the grasp of his, rendering her helpless once more as he peered darkly towards her, as if she were but a speck of dust on the surface of the planet, “But that didn’t answer the question.”

“Why do you even fucking care, Jughead?!”

“Because your self-destruction is blowing up on everyone around you, you selfish bitc-“ he cut himself off.

While he normally wouldn’t have shown verbal reserve, least of all to her, something about what he was about to say hadn’t felt right. It was like the words had stopped themselves, forcing him to choke them back down without fully understanding why. It irritated him to stifle them, but irritated him even more that they were probably far from the actual truth, and he didn’t know why. 

Because she wouldn’t talk to him. She refused. He’d tried several times now, and she just wasn’t going to give him that vulnerability that he wanted. And he didn’t know how many more ways he had up his sleeves to try. 

It pissed him off to think he might have to give up on this altogether. To disappoint Betty, to let Archie down. To surrender to _her_. 

“That’s right, Jughead.” She stated, pulling him out of his thoughts, her tone laced with hurt and victory at the same time. “I am a bitch. A selfish one.”

She must be proud of herself in this moment. Her artificial smile had returned, and it covered up what was left of the hints of defeat in her eyes and her posture as she stiffened in his grip. 

“And I am giving up. On Betty. On Archie.” She told, writhing slightly in the grasp of his arms, and his hold weakened, ever so subtly, before falling away from her completely when she added, “On the world.” One more pause as she took a step back from him, “And even on you -”

“Shut up, Veronica.” He ground out in a scowl, turning away from her slightly as he folded his arms over his chest. Something inside of him stirred. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t care, either. It was something he thought, possibly resembling misery, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. So, he furrowed his brows in irritation at himself, and willed himself to give in to a surge of annoyance and frustration instead, because it felt more normal and manageable. 

“I won’t come back here. You have my word.” Veronica then said, in a far softer voice than she had used the entirety of the evening thus far, “This is goodbye.”

He heard her leaving. Her footsteps scuffing away from him.

So that was it? That was all? This was over?

Once again something churned inside of him. Masked behind the appearance of anger and frustration, he realized he couldn’t stifle or control it. He felt like it was going to burn him up as it continued to rise, and he paced a couple of times, before angrily deciding that none of this was okay.

Her goodbye, was _not_ okay.

And Veronica didn’t have a chance to start in on him when she felt her arm once again encircled in his grip. She didn’t have a chance for anything, really.

Because suddenly, she felt like the world was imploding. Or rather, her own physical body.

Her heart was pounding like thunder, crashing against her insides, while her stomach felt as if a string of firecrackers were exploding inside of it. Her vision grew blurry. Her body trembled. A warmth began to rise inside of her chest, and she felt for a moment, that she may not even be breathing.

That feeling continued for what felt like forever, and also what felt like the blink of an eye at the same time. The world around them, didn’t seem to exist anymore.

Her lips had been captured – seized – taken hostage, just as her arms had to the grips of his hands for the umpteenth time; and her mouth and the voice behind it, had become muffled by his own.

The kiss…didn’t feel like passion. It didn’t feel like anger, nor love. It didn’t feel like spite, or hatred, or malice.  
It really didn’t feel like anything that she could understand at all, actually. 

And when they broke apart, equally winded over the action that was usually meant as affection, she blinked towards him with the most confusion she’d probably ever felt inside. She searched his expression, his eyes for anything at all that she could grasp onto, to make what had just happened make any sort of sense in her head. But just as she supposed she looked to him, there was nothing to find but a mess of disbelief. 

It took a few more seconds for him to attempt to gather himself, and realize what he’d just done, though he didn’t have an answer for why he’d done it.

He was sick and tired of looking at her. Sick and tired of searching her eyes for any kind of emotion besides fury or weakness, and now that he was seeing confusion dancing in them, it just pissed him off all over again. Even if she had every right under the sun to feel the way she was.

He scoffed, and leaned into her once more. Not to kiss her this time, but to say the words he felt like might burst out of his chest by themselves if he didn’t give into them. His eyes narrowed, “Go ahead, Veronica.” His tone was dark and challenging, “Try forgetting about me now.”

And finally, he was walking away. 

Leaving her to stand there, staring not after him, but straight at the ground, wondering when her legs were going to have enough strength inside of them again to begin walking home, and contemplating if they would at all.

While Jughead, returned inside the bar, glowering with complete distaste over his drunk gang of men as he wordlessly walked up to the counter, where his dad was still perched on the stool at the center of everything. He didn’t acknowledge his father, as he ordered a shot of the strongest stuff they served. He only waited silently, his fingers gripping the edges of the counter top as if he were trying to squeeze the life out of it. 

“Are you alright, boy?” F.P. finally inquired, noting that the energy radiating off of his son was far from poised or controlled, but rather tense and hostile.

Jughead didn’t look up at him. He simply remained focused on the surface of the counter, and when his shot arrived, he downed it in one quick and fluid motion. Sitting the glass back down on the counter, he turned and left as quickly as he’d shown up.  


F.P., meanwhile, didn’t bother calling after him, but rather chose to let his eyes linger on the glass, and the faint traces of lipstick that had been left behind on it.


	4. Shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to first start out by saying - that if you're still around to give this a read - I am forever thankful and grateful for your patience. I know it's been a while, and for that I apologize. I never intended for this story to get put on the back burner as a result of some busy life things, but it did. Some recent feedback sparked me back into action - so for any one of you that continues to leave your thoughts to me - it's all so much more powerful than you think! You're all so amazing, too.
> 
> That being said, I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint. There's not a lot of Veronica here, though she is obviously going to be on Jughead's mind as he deals with the issue of his shame over what took place last chapter. I needed to kind of resolve this plot point first, and that means there's a decent amount of brooding, and also a fair dose of Betty. But please fear not, for our chemically filled exchanges between Jughead and Veronica will continue next chapter, and I already have something in mind that I hope you'll all find amusing.
> 
> So thanks to everyone once again for the patience and understanding.  
I'll shut up now...you've waited long enough!

* * *

Shame.

It could do a lot to a person – especially if they were a teenage boy who was already neck deep in broodiness.

If anyone were to ask Jughead Jones what was going through his head three nights ago, when he kissed Veronica Lodge outside of the White Wyrm on the Southside, he may just resolve to beating his head against a wall until he fell unconscious.

But he’d probably also tell you, he’d wanted to challenge her. Give her something to hold onto. Give her a reason to do anything but what she had been telling him that night she was going to do.

And that was forget about him.

For a lot of reasons, the main one being that Veronica tended to thrive on challenges, that was in many parts, true.

If words weren’t going to be enough anymore, not that they ever really were much with her to begin with – but at least they used to hold some sort of substance – then he needed to do something to _really_ grab a hold of her attention.

Had it worked? He didn’t know.

He hadn’t spoken to her since. Not even a text, and he’d also been avoiding her in the halls, if she’d even been showing up to school at all. 

But that wasn’t really helping much, because he was still thinking about her, and thinking about what an absolute and colossal mess he had made for himself; mostly because of the girl he _was_ still seeing every day. 

The one that was caught in the middle of something that she didn’t even know about. And that “something” would probably end up breaking her heart.

Jughead had been enjoying his alone time at lunch. While he was a lot more capable and willing to be social than people gave him credit for, he still valued his privacy – especially during a time when he had so much whirling through his mind.

That didn’t stop Kevin and Betty from showing up, however, just as he was taking a drink.

“Jug, guess what?” Betty greeted, a little happier than normal as she slid onto the bench next to him. She reached over and grasped his forearm excitedly, “Veronica finally texted me! She said that we should talk!”

The water that had been halfway down Jughead’s throat came back up instantaneously, and he spewed it all over Kevin, who’d literally just sat down across from him.

Kevin’s body stiffened as the liquid pelted against him, and Betty’s jaw dropped with complete horror.

Jughead, however, seemingly completely ignored the flabbergasted look on Kevin’s face, as he choked back a couple of more coughs and slightly turned to Betty. “Talk?” he questioned, doing his best to hide the mix of guilt and slight panic in his voice. “About what?”

Betty drew back slightly, giving him a sideways glance as she grabbed a napkin from her lunch tray and began to wipe the water drips from Jughead’s face and shirt. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.” She stated, narrowing her eyes at his absolutely odd behavior. “I’m just glad she wants to talk at all.” Her gaze then softened, as she smiled softly, “Whatever you said to her worked, Jug. Thank yo- “

Before she had a chance to finish, Jughead snatched the napkin from Betty, tossing it onto the tray, needing the actions of her insistent wiping to cease as he placed his head in his hands almost stressfully. “You shouldn’t thank me for anything.” He murmured miserably.

Veronica was going to tell her.  
About the kiss.  
That had to be what it was about.  
Why suddenly she wanted to “talk”.

In her downward spiral of ultimate self-destruction, she was still feeling spiteful, and she was going to take him down with her. 

Because why would she still care about him, if she didn’t even care about herself anymore?

Shit.  
This would not end well.  
And he probably deserved it.

Betty, finally deciding to turn away from Jughead and his bout of unordinary behavior, looked over at Kevin who had just recovered from being spewed on, before finally directing her attention at her school tray, contemplating if she truly wanted to eat what was on it or not, “It doesn’t matter anyway.” She stated solemnly, “I’ve missed talking to V.”

Kevin nodded towards her, and as the two of them began to chatter, seemingly uncomfortably ignoring Jughead and his…well…whatever “mood” this was he’d slipped into, the broody teenager himself did his best just to keep his thoughts in check. He felt like his head might explode.

If anyone were to ask him what was going through his head three nights ago, when he kissed Veronica Lodge outside of the White Wyrm on the Southside, he would probably say that he wasn’t thinking at all.

That his head and all of his inner thoughts felt exactly like it was feeling now.

Panicked, out of control, edgy, and frustrated. 

An unorganized mess that had simply been searching for a solution, and a way to crack the armor of an ice queen who was giving up on life, and all that it entailed.

It’d gone beyond what Archie, and even Betty had asked of him. 

It was more than just “watching out for” and “talking” to her now.

She had needed something more. Desperately.

Whether or not a kiss fit into that “something” was neither here nor there. Because it had happened. And whatever her takeaway from it was, Jughead wondered if she was having as miserable of a time dealing with the aftermath of it as he was.

Maybe he had been the one that had really been desperate in that moment.  
Maybe he’d been scared.  
And just maybe those words, “This is goodbye,” had unhinged him in a way he hadn’t thought was possible. 

It really pissed him off to think that something like a line of dialogue from Veronica could have done it. That those words coming out of her mouth had made him fearful enough to do something like this, but he couldn’t necessarily dismiss the notion of that being the reason either.

Veronica had never scared him before. Not with words, and certainly not with her “mightier and more graceful than thou” demeanor she always used to carry herself with. 

It was one of the things that always frustrated her the most – and amused Jughead to hell and back – that he just didn’t care who she was or where she came from. He could put her in her place on any given Sunday; and she’d do it right back; with no regard or care in the world that he was the leader of a gang. And they were experts of the highest caliber at pushing one another’s buttons. It was what they did.

But…the look that had been in her eyes three nights ago? It had been the most dull and empty he’d ever seen them when she’d uttered her “goodbye”. 

The type of dull and empty that hadn’t allowed him to scoff at her, or roll his eyes at her, or even tell her she was being “dramatic”. 

No.

Those eyes had penetrated something deeply. They had struck possible fear into him.

They’d caused him to act.

And he had another reason to be fearful now because of it.

He gazed to his right, subtly taking in the bright and chipper looking blonde beside him. She looked happier than she had been the previous few days, and even though Jughead knew Veronica’s text probably had a lot to do with it, he couldn’t help but be tormented by the thoughts of what her face would look like when she found out what he’d done.

He let out somewhat of a heavy sigh, and cleared his throat, and when Betty turned to look at him, he held her eyes with his, despite every bone in his body that was urging him to break that contact. “So…when?”

Betty blinked at him, looking confused. She and Kevin had far moved on to a different topic of conversation, and she probably had no idea what he was asking her about.

“Veronica.” Jughead clarified, before she could ask.

He cleared his throat again, subtly, because it had quaked ever so slightly when her name had escaped him. Betty hadn’t seemed to detect the small abnormality, but he was feeling quite annoyed about it.

“Not sure.” She answered back, narrowing her eyes a little bit towards him, though her expression held no malice, just concern. “Are you alright? You look pale.” 

Betty reached her hand up, as if she were going to place it against his cheek to check for a fever, but he intercepted it with his own hand. “I’m fine.” He murmured, now tearing his gaze away from her as he dropped her hand. He wasn’t feeling particularly affectionate, nor did he feel as if he deserved to receive any, so he stood from his seat and grabbed his bag and lunch tray, before muttering out a quick, “I’ll call you.” 

Betty watched him skulk away, slightly bewildered. She was no stranger to his moods, and knew that more often than not, something troubling occupied his mind. She just hoped whatever this one was wouldn’t be too hard on him.

* * *

He’d thought long and hard about skipping chemistry that day.

In fact, his insides were screaming at him to skip the entirety of the remainder of the school day, but Jughead had never been one to be such a coward.  
He was supposed to face his issues, not run from them. 

While Veronica had seemingly lost all want and care to “deal” with anything, he still felt he needed to conserve whatever scrap of pride might still be buried in his soul – underneath the weight of his guilt and shame of course - and tough the rest of the day out. 

After all, when you fucked up, you dealt with your shit. 

Damned if the two females he held closest in his life weren’t making that hard for him right now, though. 

And they hadn’t even done anything wrong.

An hour later and 10 minutes into the chemistry lecture, however, and he was having a pretty hard time focusing on any droning word that was coming out of the teacher’s mouth.

Veronica hadn’t shown.

Which didn’t surprise him, and, for whatever annoying reason, also felt disappointing.

Despite the mess that had been created three days ago, and despite the fact that his thoughts were in shambles over just how he was going to break it to Betty – because he was, if Veronica didn’t beat him to it – he was still worried about the damned woman.

If you took all the surrounding drama and noise away from the situation, the main issue was still there.

Veronica wasn’t okay, and she hadn’t been since the day Archie had left.

The one thing Jughead didn’t want to lose sight of among all of this ridiculousness was that.

Betty? She was going to be a fairly simple problem to solve – albeit heartbreaking and hard – she just needed to be told the truth.

Veronica?

Well, Jughead had no fucking idea what it was going to take to pull her out of the darkness she’d gotten lost in. 

He wasn’t a therapist, and he had little patience when it came to her antics, but somehow, and some way, he was going to have to figure this out. Figure her out. Again.

* * *

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Jughead shot a sharpened sideways glare at his father as he watched him enter the trailer later that afternoon. It was a little after 4:30, and Jughead hadn’t moved from the couch since he’d gotten home from school. 

F.P. simply frowned towards him. There was honestly no telling what his son could possibly be thinking so intently about, as it was commonplace for him to come home from work and find him in this exact position, doing this exact thing. 

But his boy had seemingly had this same troubled look on his face for three days now, and he was beginning to feel like a bad father, having not asked him before now if something more serious than usual might be bothering him.

Hell, most days F.P. considered himself to barely be much of a father at all, but he did love his son. 

And sometimes the best thing a parent could do for their child was lend them an ear or a shoulder if they needed it.

Jughead had returned to staring at the wall silently, not bothering to respond to his dad, nor even spare a glance in his direction as he put his coat and lunch box down on the small table near the almost just as small kitchen area.

F.P. wasted no time getting into the fridge for the can of beer that had been calling his name since he’d left this morning, and stole another glance towards his son as he opened it up and brought it to his lips, feeling the bitter, refreshing flavor flood down the back of his throat.

He sighed a bit quietly, to himself.

The look in his son’s eyes told him it had nothing to do with any Serpent related business.

Jughead was _too_ good at figuring that stuff out. So good in fact, that sometimes his boy’s game face could scare even him.

This?  
This seemed…complicated.

Sometimes F.P. wished Jughead would just jump on his bike and leave this town for good; never look back. But, he knew he wouldn’t. Things like that were always wishful thinking, and, like it or not, his son had really dug his heels into the toxic soil of the place.

Riverdale…it had never been the easiest place to grow up.

While on the outside it seemed like a quaint, quiet blip on the map – an ideal spot for smaller family’s to settle down and avoid the higher hustle and bustle of a major city – it’s true roots and history were as messy and poisonous as something you’d read about in a dark fantasy novella. 

It was as if the town itself were alive sometimes. It had allure to it. Holding the appearance of a friendly, close knit community – and then before people knew it they were being buried beneath the threats, chaos, and haunting memories of crime lords, gangs, a particularly twisted cult, and a slew of terrible people in general – most of which were also piss poor excuses for parents.

Sometimes you’d get lucky.  
Most times you wouldn’t.

The kids always suffered in one way or another, eventually.

Jughead’s personal life was something he rarely felt compelled to talk about with him.

But F.P. wasn’t a complete moron. He’d been that age once, too. Friendships and girls…they could be as huge a cause for mental devastation as anything else.

And right now, his son looked like he’d taken a dive into the murky waters of lake misery.

He took a seat in the chair next to the couch. He didn’t want to come off as too pushy or straight forward, but he also knew better than to beat around the bush. His son had never had much respect for small talk. “So…which one of them is it?”

As seemingly drowned as Jughead appeared to be within the walls of his own head, he tilted his head slightly towards his father at the sound of his voice. “What?”

Well, his voice hadn’t been completely dismissive, which F.P. always took as a good sign, especially when Jughead was going to war with his own mind, so he shifted in his seat a little, and turned towards him a slight bit more before taking a sip of his beer, and asking again, “The girls. Which one of them has you so far into your head it looks like you’ll never come back?”

Jughead let out a silent huff. While sitting here and humoring his curious father was most definitely going to be less annoying than attempting to find a solution to the conundrum that was Veronica Lodge, he still wasn’t sure he had the mental patience to undertake this conversation right now. 

He found the look in his father’s eyes to be sincere, however, even as he gulped down another mouthful of beer.

So instead of telling him not to be concerned with it, he answered, “Both, I guess.“ before letting out another sigh, this one not as silent, and turning his gaze away. His eyes caught the edge of the musty carpet, and without really being aware of it, his tone had lowered slightly, “Betty’s going to break up with me soon.”

“Hm.” F.P. responded, though it felt thoughtful and contemplative, at least to Jughead, “She know about the kiss?”

Jughead’s eyes sped back towards his father, who only returned a look of unfortunate understanding of his own. “How the hell do _you_ even know about that?”

“Jug.” F.P. tilted his head slightly, “I know you believe I’m the world’s most absent father,” he stated knowingly, before considering it, “And okay, fair play. But I do actually pay attention sometimes.”

Jughead didn’t really want to respond to that. Nothing good or productive would come out of that conversation. It’s not like he didn’t believe his dad was incapable of being aware of things sometimes, but, well, like everything else in his life, he felt complicated about it. 

And now just wasn’t the time.

“Is that what’s been causing you to mope around for three days acting as if you deserve to be shot out on the Riverdale canal bridge? A kiss?” 

Jughead scoffed. It was annoying to hear his father refer to the subject matter that had been troubling him all day so passively, as if it were no big deal or didn’t matter. He narrowed his eyes towards him, “I have a fucking girlfriend, remember? Betty?” he ground out, “The one I just told you would break up with me soon?”

“Yeah, alright, I know,” F.P. started once more, with a slight tone of whimsical defense, although he quickly added, “I didn’t mean it like that,” in an attempt to not already lose out on this conversation. 

“You know, she actually trusts me. Loves me. Is there for me.” Jughead continued firing off, his eyes so dark and furious that F.P. shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “And I’m about to lose it all because I’m a fucking idiot who couldn’t think straight when a problem was standing in front of me.”

F.P. frowned, but looked thoughtful, having found something to grab onto. “So, the Lodge girl.” He started, before turning his head slightly and closing his eyes. A couple of finger snaps later, and he was still silent, but his expression seemed strained.

Jughead rolled his eyes. “Veronica.” He stated firmly, shortly, folding his arms over his chest.

F.P.’s eyes popped as if all his current problems had been resolved, and he pointed a finger towards his moody son, “She’s a problem, you say?”

Jughead quickly realized the error of his ways, but his father continued before he could correct himself.

“Just put a couple of the guys on her then.” F.P. suggested, in a tone that implied that a “problem” wasn’t rocket science when you were the prince of serpents. He gestured outward with both of his hands, “Problem solved.”

Jughead felt heat swirling in his chest, “No –“ he started, but had to stop himself just to scoff, “I didn’t mean – “ he let out a frustrated growl, “_She’s_ not a problem, there just is one. She’s my fucking friend, I know you know that.” He ground out, his fists tightening slightly, “I don’t know why I have to spell everything out for you. This is why we don’t talk.”

F.P. however, couldn’t help but smirk subtly towards his son’s aggression. He may be absent minded and in the dark when it came to most things concerning his son, but he had a point to all of this. Jughead just didn’t see it yet. “Son, I don’t need you to spell it out for me.” He informed, leaning a bit onto the arm of the chair, “I think you need to spell it out for you.”

In quite rare form, Jughead found himself temporarily stunned into silence by his father. His eyebrow shifted upwards, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’m just saying it means that I know you have a lot going on up there in that head of yours right now.” F.P. replied, pressing a finger to his own temple, though Jughead understood the point, “And when you can’t figure out what the “why” and the “how” means amidst all the chaos, sometimes that’s because it’s more important that you remember the “who” that it’s about in the first place.”

You may not have been able to tell by Jughead’s expression, just how quickly and deeply he’d mentally jumped all over that statement, beginning to dissect it piece by piece, word by word, but he was. 

F.P. could tell his son was content with what he said – which shocked him slightly, considering it would usually have to be a cold day in hell for his son to actually process any piece of advice he gave him – but he felt the need to add something else, “I’m not saying it’s an answer, or even a solution.” He clarified, “But I do know that sometimes you have to let things fall into place by themselves.” He then shifted in his seat again, letting his back slump against the chair as he sank into the 20 year old cushion. 

There was never any guarantee, when it came to the mind and brain of one particular Jughead Jones the third, that advice of any kind was going to give him any sort of peace. 

But it didn’t mean that the words wouldn’t resonate.

Perhaps, this time, for now, his father was right.

And if anyone were to ask Jughead Jones what was going through his head three nights ago, when he kissed Veronica Lodge outside of the White Wyrm on the Southside, maybe he could finally say that he didn’t know the reason why he did it – but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t one.

He tilted his gaze towards his father, huffing slightly, “Wow.”

F.P. held up his hands as if he’d just achieved some incredible feat, “I know.” He claimed, “I’m kind of awesome – “

“Alright, fuck off.” Jughead spat, immediately cutting his father off as he rose from the sofa and took a few steps towards the door.

F.P. chuckled subtly as his son passed him by, but the true smile came when he heard the quieter “thanks, dad” dance across the airwaves of the dimly lit room, followed by the sound of the door as Jughead exited the trailer.

* * *

Shame.

It could do a _lot_ to a person.

Which was probably why he was taking the long way to Betty’s house. He’d left his bike at home. This time, he’d wanted to walk.

While his dad had somehow mysteriously managed to help him for now – yes, the “why” and the “how” were temporarily on hold – it’s not like that fixed the issue altogether. 

But Jughead knew that if he was going to truly get to the bottom of what was wrong with Veronica Lodge, the issue with Betty was going to have to be out of the way first.

And he hated thinking about it like that – as if it were just some pesky problem to resolve so that he could move on.

Because it wasn’t some pesky problem, and he wasn’t just going to “move on”, either.

Betty was his girlfriend, for at least another 20 minutes.

And he loved her.

He felt his stomach churn with a subtle bout of sinking as he pressed a hand to it and frowned at the pavement beneath his feet.

It was unfair, really.  
Not that it was going to hurt him, because he felt rather deserving of that turmoil after he’d broken her trust like this.  
What was unfair was that it was going to hurt her.

And he suddenly felt unready to inflict that pain on someone who had been nothing but a rock for him to hold onto in this shitty town.

He shook his head slightly, as if it were going to dismiss his doubts of what needed to be done. Honing and sharpening his gaze with determination, he continued trudging forward, but the unsettling feelings didn’t go away.

They weren’t going to, he supposed.

Maybe, and most likely, what he was really feeling right now was dread.

Dread to have to look in the eyes of the blonde girl he knew he was so lucky to have in his corner and single handedly eliminate her love for him in a fleeting moment with a truthful confession.

He exhaled heavily, repositioning the signature beanie that hugged his head as he gazed upwards at the light that was slowly fading away from the sky.

A little after 6pm. Early evening for the town of Riverdale.

In an hour’s time, he and the “girl next door” would be single, and tonight they’d both be sleeping with the same broken heart.

* * *

He hadn’t expected to see _her_.  
Not today.  
He hadn’t been ready.  
But there she was.

The timing was coincidental – too coincidental for his conspiracy theory ridden mind – and if there weren’t more important and pressing issues at hand, he probably would have stopped her for interrogation.

But his heart was pulsating far more irregularly than he was comfortable with as he watched her place both of her frail looking arms around Betty’s shoulders. 

He watched them embrace silently. Betty looked like she had been crying a bit. Veronica of course, hadn’t.

As the raven haired girl turned to walk down the front steps of the porch, murmuring an exchange with his soon to be ex-girlfriend that he didn’t quite hear, he cleared his throat, and stood up a little straighter, waiting for the moment when she’d see him there.

Something about being in her presence made him feel more like himself than he had the past few days. It was automatic, almost, the changes his mind, soul and body would make just to prepare for anything concerning her. Another “why” he was going to have to quickly put on hold, because their eyes had met now, and it seemed as if they both felt frozen.

“Jug!” Betty called, waving a hand in his direction as he stood at the end of the small walk path that turned into her front yard.

He waved back, or something, but his eyes never left Veronica’s. 

He realized there was probably a lot he would do, just to know what her thoughts were right now, but it was annoying how uncomfortable this moment felt.

She averted her eyes away from him, and he cleared his throat, stepping off of the path as if giving her silent permission to pass by.

She did – mere seconds later, without a word or even the quiet uttering of his name; and for the first time maybe ever, he didn’t stop her from going.

He turned to watch her disappear, however, noting the sense of urgency in her step after she’d come to the end of the path - to get out of there, and not look back.

Dread overtook him once again.

What had she done?  
What had she said?

The sinking feeling in his stomach felt invasive and harsh, and when he felt Betty’s hand on his shoulder it only got worse.

He turned towards her, her tear stricken and tired eyes meeting his. “I guess we should probably talk.”

Her gentle touch slipped away from him, as she turned to retreat towards her front porch where she took a seat on the stairs.

Of course.  
Of _course_ Veronica just had to say something before he could.

Though he did suppose he’d had a few days to do it himself and hadn’t. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to. Betty deserved the truth, and there was no other thought to have about it, he just hadn’t worked out how to approach it yet.

Hell, it wasn’t even worked out in his own head, let alone trying to work through it with the person who’d been wronged.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

And so, he sighed and scuffed up to the porch, sitting down alongside her as she scrunched her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

They sat silently, for a moment. 

For Jughead it felt like extreme torture. He wanted her to be able to speak first, if she wanted. To tear into him and do her worst. To get it all out, and over with.

A light breeze had began to wisp around in the air, and it felt obscenely fitting for the atmosphere that was currently encompassing the two of them.

Jughead had almost decided to speak up, but a couple of minutes later, Betty finally did first.

“What should we do, Jug?” she asked, her chin now resting atop one of her knees as she gazed outward towards the quiet neighborhood street, “Where do we go from here?”

Something felt wrong. Whether or not it was just the air that’d made him feel unsettled, or the fact that she wasn’t screaming at him, or storming off and slamming the door in his face – this wasn’t the start he’d imagined taking place in this conversation.  
He blinked towards her, shifting his posture in the process. For as much love as he felt for her, and as seeming as it was that she was leaving the future of their relationship in his hands, he knew that the only solution that would feel right in this moment, would be for her to completely and mercilessly kick him to the curb.

How fucking dare she try to give him any control whatsoever.

He inhaled, and his tone came out more irritated than he thought it would, “Have some fucking backbone about it, Betty.”

Her gaze landed on him, and she blinked, taken slightly by surprise by how his voice had sounded, “How am I supposed to do that?”

Fine.  
She wanted to play this way? Beat around the bush?

He could be the bad guy.  
He already was, so it wasn’t like embracing the role willingly could make it much worse.

“For starters, you can keep the bullshit to yourself,” He snarked, his eyes narrowing towards her, “Because killing me with kindness won’t get you anywhere.”

With each word he felt leaving his mouth, so too did his heart feel twinges of guilt and pain for the girl sitting next to him. 

He hated this situation, and he hated himself even more so for creating it in the first place, but he just needed her to be real right now. To feel real. 

When her eyes softened towards him with confusion and still a trace of surprise, he only felt more upset. Her hand reached for him, but he pushed it away, “I’m fucking serious.”

“So am I!” Betty shouted back, but more so with a pleading tone than anything, “What exactly do you want from me right now?”

“Anything but what you’re doing right now.” He ground out, forcing himself to stand up and pace slightly, because if he didn’t do something, he felt as if he might spontaneously combust. He squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched his fists, focusing for a moment only on his breathing, because if he couldn’t keep that in check, this entire thing was going to blow up in all of the ways that it shouldn’t. 

“I…” Betty started quietly, cutting herself off when he stopped his pacing and deadpanned his stare on her. She cleared her throat, watching him fold his arms over his chest before blinking her beaming and watery eyes up at him, “Jug, I…didn’t realize this had been so hard on you,” She then tilted her head slightly as she stood up as well, “You’re shaking.”

He hadn’t realized he had been, but he was more alert to take a step back from her when she drew near, leaving a look of complete heartbreak in her eyes in the process.

“What is going on? Why don’t you want to be near me?” she pleaded, her voice laced with desperation and a need for knowing what had come over him.

It took a moment of him staring hard into her eyes for things to click. In his feverish mess of emotions and need to feel bad for what he’d done to his girlfriend, he hadn’t taken the time to really take in the look on her face – and the sound of her voice.

Her question had made him realize something very crucial in this moment of high emotion.

They weren’t talking about the same thing.

Not at all.

His eyes lost a little of their edge, their sharpness, as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. It was his turn to feel confused, now.

If Betty wasn’t talking about their future as a couple, and what he’d done to compromise it, then what was she talking about?

“What did you mean, ‘where do we go from here’, Betty?” Jughead inquired, and his tone had lost it’s sting as well. He needed to get to the bottom of this, because he didn’t know right from left in this conversation anymore, and that made him feel highly uncomfortable.

Betty made a bit of a shrugging gesture as she held one of her hands up, “I meant about Veronica, Jug.” She stated, now mimicking his posture as she folded her arms, “How are we going to help her? She finally came to talk and I thought it’d make me feel better, but it didn’t.” she continued, her voice now regaining bits of confidence, but the concern for her friend was very much there as she leaned her head towards him slightly.

“Oh.” Was all Jughead’s response was. His thoughts were strung out in all kinds of different directions, and for as fast as he was now scrambling to gather the pieces back, he didn’t feel his composure was improving at all.  
That sinking feeling had come back.

Because apparently, Veronica hadn’t told Betty anything at all.

All she’d done was scare her more.

“She’s not okay.” Betty started again, and he made the effort to mold his expression into something resembling comfort towards her – though he didn’t know if it worked. “She’s really, _really_ not.”

“I know, alright? I do.” Jughead then held up a hand to halt her from saying more. He closed his eyes again, before grabbing his hat off his head and running his fingers through his unruly hat hair.

Betty watched him with patience, though she was still a bit baffled as to why he’d been so seemingly hostile just a moment ago.

Jughead sighed heavily, opening his eyes back up to look at her once more, “There’s something else we need to talk about.” He stated, his tone having quieted a lot as his gaze grew sad towards her, “Or, really, there’s just something you need to know.”

“About Veronica?”

“Eh…” Jughead responded very passively, walking past her towards the stairs once more. He contemplated her words as he took his seat, “She was there, but,” he paused one more time, waiting for her to sit down again as well, “It’s really more about something I did.”

After one more heavy swallow, he told her everything that had happened three nights ago with Veronica Lodge outside of the White Wyrm on the Southside. 

From the raven haired girl showing up to the bar she shouldn’t have in the first place, to his attempts to break through her armor with no luck, to the uttered goodbye she’d said to him, right before whatever emotion had overtaken him into claiming a kiss. 

Betty’s expression had gone from hurt, to troubled, to confused, to hurt again. But Jughead never saw anger.

And she’d cried.

Something he always hated to see but knew was inevitable, given the situation – and also the fact that she’d been feeling vulnerable before he’d even shown up.

The breakup did happen, but not at all how he’d thought it would. 

Betty had asked him why he’d decided to kiss Veronica, and how he thought that would have helped her somehow. 

Jughead had given her a truthful, but very unsatisfying answer : “I don’t know.”

And, after struggling to accept that answer, Betty had responded with : “Well, I don’t think we can be together until you do.”

After that, Betty had wrapped things up rather quickly. She’d told him that she still wanted to help be there for Veronica, but she’d really rather not see him for a few days; and Jughead admired her recognition for how important it was to keep their drama and issues separate from Veronica’s current peril. 

As he walked home, the sky’s color significantly darker than it had been when he’d arrived, he scuffed at the ground, wishing that Betty had been harder on him.

There wasn’t enough pain to justify what he’d done to her, but he supposed the miserable sinking feeling he got in his stomach whenever he reminded himself she was no longer his girlfriend would be damaging enough on those nights when he would lie awake and think about how very fortunate some parts of his life were.

And Betty’s words did stick with him, long after he’d gotten home, and laid down on the couch to think and process and work through what had happened that evening.

But not the ones about them.

_“She’s not okay.”_  
_“She’s really, really not.”_

It wasn’t like he didn’t know that. He did.

But something about the way Betty had said it, and the sound in her voice, the look on her face. Whatever she seen reflected in Veronica’s eyes the moment she came to that conclusion had shaken her. Hard.

Maybe he wasn’t going to be sleeping with a broken heart.  
Maybe he wasn’t going to be sleeping at all.  
Because those words were probably going to keep him awake all night.


	5. - Intermission - A Note To All My Readers / Preview of upcoming chapter (take down later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some author's notes, and a small preview. (This will be replaced by the actual chapter when it's uploaded.)

Hello to all of you guys!

This is probably not what you were expecting, and is not the chapter update I've been talking about here lately. 

What this is, is an opportunity I wanted to take to explain why the new chapter (I feel) is not ready to go up yet - though I'll share with you a snippet - and why I need more time to work on it. Because I really wanted to have it done (I informed you, MojoMore, that it would be and I'm sorry because I feel like I've let you down :( And I'm so thankful for your support).

So just to put it into the best example I can try to put it into - I've literally been working on this chapter since mid-December. Adding bits and pieces here and there. When I finally have taken some time to sit down and edit through it before upload, I realized I wasn't happy with it at all. It feels so scattered. And I think it has everything to do with the fact that I have not had one day of time to just sit down and work on it altogether. This chapter has been constructed literally of me sitting down for 20 minute increments every couple of days and adding a few paragraphs. I feel ashamed because this is never the kind of work I want to do with my writing, and I feel like somewhere over the past month and a half I've been putting it together I've lost sight of the plot and integrity and what I want to accomplish with it - bottom line being, this is *not* the kind of work I want to publish. These past couple of days I've been editing and I've been so disappointed in myself, because you can tell the bits and pieces don't flow together well, and I can't believe I got so sloppy.

But more than anything I would feel really bad posting something like this, that has sloppy cohesion and doesn't always make sense. This is a story about Veronica, right? And what Jughead feels he needs to do to "fix" her, yet this chapter feels like a grab bag of random plot points. 

That being said, I want to apologize profusely for the major delay. I could go into all the details about why I haven't had time to sit down and have an actual writing session, but seeing as there are many things that have contributed to that, I'm going to just sum it up by telling you lots of different life things. I've never been the type that likes to make tons of excuses as to why things aren't happening when I've said they will, because to me the bottom line is I am just sorry that they didn't.

You guys have been the best - and I never could have even dreamed of having the support that I do. So I am extremely sorry about this.

To add, please do know that this story *will* continue. I just need to get those good writing days in, and since Thanksgiving, I haven't had a single one. But I will not discontinue this. I know exactly where it's going and what I want to do with it - it's a matter of having the proper time to sit down and execute it.

So I don't know when the new chapter will come, but I have decided to scrap a LOT of it and start over. What I can tell you is that there will be a very good sized chunk that takes place between Jughead and Veronica, at her house. 

And I also did manage (through editing) to preserve the opening scene to the chapter, which is shared down below. 

In closing, once again, all I can say from the bottom of my heart is that I am sorry I haven't been able to update, and I do hope that you guys stick around. I am extremely grateful to have the support and feel so honored every single time I get a kudo or feedback. It's beyond flattering, and I just don't have enough words of thanks for it. 

Enjoy the preview :) 

* * *

PART 5 - Fight Or Flight [Opening Scene]

It was early.  
He was grumpy.

Normally, he wouldn’t stop by the White Wyrm before school.

But yet, here he was.

And if one more of his ignorant serpents approached him at _any_ point to ask about Veronica again, he was going to break something. 

As suspected, he hadn’t gotten much sleep.  
Though he supposed 3 and a half hours was far better than none. 

Thankful as he was, though, that did not mean he had the patience to deal with a group of blabbering morons. 

“Did I tell you about the part where she put on my jacket??” 

The burly man from the other night had probably gotten more action in that one fleeting moment than he had in years, and he hadn’t shut up about it since.

“Yes.” Three other serpents chimed in simultaneously; and Jughead rolled his eyes, silently debating on walking over and smashing the man’s face into the table. At least then he wouldn’t be talking anymore.

However, before pure and utter violence could enter his mind as a complete solution, Fangs sauntered in through the door. He made a face towards the men gathered at the small table – it was barely 7am and they seemed to already be drunk - before approaching the bar, which Jughead was leaning on, looking like he wanted to die somewhere in a rainy ditch.

Fangs slid onto the barstool next to him, “Hey man. Anything I can do for you?”

Jughead shot him a very brief and very sideways glare, “No.”

The lesser serpent sighed. He and Jughead weren’t necessarily “friend” friends, but he liked to think he was loyal enough that Jughead knew he could confide in him. His boss had always kept his personal life separate from his serpent life, sure, but Fangs wasn’t a stranger to the truth that Archie Andrews was away, and whereas Jughead usually had the redhead as a BFF, and a “shoulder”, or whatever else, it wasn’t a current option for him.

Despite the fact that they were both members of the same gang and did spend rather a lot of time around each other, they were still from 2 different worlds. Jughead had a life outside of the Southside, and Fangs did not.

He sighed, and tapped his hands on the counter a couple of times, turning slightly on his seat. He knew his boss also didn’t appreciate small talk, but now that he’d sat down – and only a few seconds ago at that – it’d be incredibly awkward to just get up and leave. 

A bout of laughter erupted from behind them, and Fangs turned slightly to look at the group of 4 men gathered around the small table.

“But did you see the ass on her??” 

It happened in a blur. A flickering burst of movement passed by with a subtle breeze, and before Fangs could blink, his boss’ stool was now empty.

The sound of a glass shattering on the floor was followed by a thud, and when Fangs finally managed to process what was going on, he noticed that the man who had been carrying on was lying on the floor. Knocked, straight out of his seat with a single punch.

And standing over him, glaring, was Jughead, who – no doubt – was fighting off the urge to reach down and hit him again.

Fangs cautiously stood from his seat. The table had fallen silent, and the other two men who’d been sitting there were seemingly frozen in place, stuck like statues, hoping that they weren’t going to be the next to receive the end of their boss’ fist.

Jughead, however, simply unclenched his fist and shook it slightly. He took in a breath, before blinking, almost as if he were coming to – and the moment that had just happened was one that he hadn’t even realized happened. 

Just like the night he kissed Veronica.

The goddamn vixen was causing him to come undone, and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t have the answers on how to fix her, nor did he have the answers on why he so badly wanted to try.

But he knew he had to.

Because it was bullshit, watching her crumble the way she had been.

“Alright boss?” 

Fangs’ inquiring voice snapped him out of his short lived thought spiral, and his head snapped in the direction of the fellow snake. 

He scoffed out a “fine” towards him before glaring at the man on the floor once more, and he crouched down to grab him by the collar, “The next time I hear you talk about that girl again, I won’t stop at one. In fact, you’ll pray I stop at all.”

And with that, Jughead had left the man on the floor, looking extremely flabbergasted, and retreated out the bar doors.


End file.
